LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap.. .'CopyngiiOo....^-'- 

Shelf. ZZj^ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



ZENOBIA 

ADD OTHEF POEMS 
G.^' h/tHORNTON. 



Sweet flower, shall I here cast the to the wind 
For cold jindifference to be thy share? 
Oh, mayst thou hear from some warm fertile mind 
An ardent call to make thy dwelling there ! 




-6-i 



1897. 

GRIFFITH PUBLISHING COMPANY 
SAN FRANCISCO. 



•p3 3c><»° 



COPYRIGHTED, 1896. 
BY 
a. H. THORNTON. ^ f^ 



(^C$ 'y 



Thou art, fair book, a lonely crumb 

Upon the literary sea, 
And many storms may to thee come 

Before returning home to me. 

As man goes forth to meet the years 
Unconscious of what they will bring, 

And reaps a harvest of sad tears 
Or finds in life perpetual Spring. 

So 'tis with thee; I send thee thence 

To meet thy destiny as they, 
And clouds may gather round thee dense, 

Or sunshine cheer thee on thy way. 

In tears thy i5oul has cost me dearly, 
In toil thy form has cost me more, 

Yet should but one love thee sincerely 
My weary soul will ask no more. 



CONTENTS. 



Title. Page 

Zenobia 9 

Tbe Omen of Paul St Claire 20 

A Hymn to California 29 

A Tale of Sorrow 33 

Love's Farewell Kiss 44 

To J. S. Hawkins 46 

My Julia 48 

To Love 49 

To A Friexid 50 

The Banner of Freedom 58 

Flossie Rame 61 

The Old Gives Way to the New 63 

Greed For Gain 65 

School Vacation 66 

To Apollo 67 

The Heroes of Liberty 68 

Happiness 70 

Mari^arite 71 

To a Snail 72 

The Lay of the Last Magnate 73 

Hurrah ! For The Jolly Three 74 

On Finding a Skeleton . 76 

To a Lover 77 

The Rain ... 78 

The Beauties of Nature 80 

The Song of the Katy-did 81 

My Lost Louise 82 

There Is No Man But Has a Fault 83 

A True Love Vow 84 

My Love 85 

My Pilgrim From Tbe Ocean 86 



The Home of Peace 88 

Working In Tl-e Garden 89 

The Passing of the Dying Year 91 

Fashion 93 

Cleveland, The Fisherman . 94 

The Great First Cause 96 

I Care Net For Wealth 98 

The River Rhine 99 

Our Heroe-i 100 

Smiles and Tears 101 

The Chickadee 102 

When We See As We Are Seen 104 

Fast Roll the Years Away 105 

Grant's Address at the Battle of Shiloh 106 

Onmipresence 107 

Springtime 108 

To The Meditative 109 

Mount of the Hciy Cross Ill 

Freedom 112 

Joaquin Miller 114 

Oka-lee 115 

On the Death of Harry H 118 

Love Shines Brighter Than All 119 

The Quail 120 

The Pleasures of Life . . .122 

On the Banks of the Sacramento 124 

San Francisco Bay 125 

To Julia , 127 

The Bark of Life 128 

My Home, My Native Land 130 

The American Flag 133 

Those Happy Mission Days 184 

The Mission Dolores 137 

To a Lover 141 

The Lassie of My Choice 142 

May 143 

Pussy Wants a Corner 144 

Apollo to Daphne 146 

The Voice of Winter 147 

Arise and Come Away 149 



ZENOBIA. 



''Tell us a Btor3% grandpapa. 

One of the good old kind. 
About the wolves and buflfalos 

And bears you used to find. 

But any kind will do, grandpa, 

And we will all be good, 
And be as quiet as we can, 

As any children should." 

"Well, let me think a rrjonient, dear, 

What story to relate, 
For I have told them nearly all 

While sitting by the grate. 

But long ago. when I was young, 
Three times the age of you, 

I had a brother whose name was Paul 
A little sister too." 



to ZENOBEA. 

•'Was that Aunt Lucy, grandpapa?" 

''Oh, no, my darling, no, 
You never saw my sister, dear, 

For short we called her Zo. 

So father took us all out West, 

.Vcros:^ the central plain. 
To where the owls and prairie dogs 

And rattlesnakes hold reign. 

We had ten head of horses then, 
VV^hich made a splendid team. 

And well they worked to pull us o'er 
Each hill and mountain stream. 

We left a modest home behind; 

And neighbors not a few 
Came there to see us take our leave, 

And bid us all adieu. 

Most evory night the wolves would howl 

Around our lonely camp, 
And twice as much whene'er they spied 

The flicker of our lamp. 

But on we went and heeded not 
The wolves most painful howl; 

Nor yet were we disturbed by 
The hooting of the owl. 



ZENOBIA. 11 

But when we reached the Western slope 
• The saddest thing occured, 
And if you'll listen to me, dear, 
I'll tell you every word." 

The evening sun was nearl}' set, 
The Western sky was golden yet, 
All nature seemed to say good night 
To him, as he went out of sight; 
Our evening camp fire glowed with heat 
While he was beating his retreat. 
And round the fire we travelers sat. 
Thinking to have a merry chat, 
When on the distant hill top came 
A tribe of those whose very frame 
Struck terror to the hearts of all 
Who saw their measured footsteps fall. 
They marched along in single file, 
Which was their true and native style, 
With feathers flying in the air 
And painted cheeks and vengeful glare; 
Which glare alone would almost put 
To flight the pale faced tenderfoot. 
But soon they passed beyond our sight, 
Into the darkness of the night; 
To scout that part was our intent. 
And that we did at all event. 
The horses from the stake we got, 
Saddled, mounted and off* we shot. 
Across the hills our course we took 



12 ZENOBTA. 

Until we crossed a shallow brook. 
But not a soul and not a sound 
In all ouv course was to be found, 
When all at once on top the hill 
We heard a war whoop loud and shrill, 
Then soon we lit upon the ground 
To listen for some further sound, 
And gazing long, with hand o'er eyes. 
We saw next to the Western skies, 
Performing men play at some sport, 
And close beside their transient fort. 
To discern what kind of game 
AVas now our one and only aim; 
They ran and leaped into the air 
And then returned with utmost care, 
Then back they rush and on they go, 
Like angry bulls upon the foe; 
But, lo, we look the other^ way 
And here come mounted horsemen gay 
They closely bear upon our left, 
A moment more and we're bereft 
Of all escape from scalper's knife. 
So on we ride for mortal life. 
But now they turn to cross our path, 
And on they come in heated wrath. 
We ply the whip and make the turn 
To where we see the campfire burn; 
But on they come and still more fast. 
And with each leap a warhoop blast. 
With eight of them 'gainst two of us 



ZENOBIA. 

The odds are somewhat over-plus. 

To win or lose means life or death, 

And now our steeds are out of breatli. 

I prayed tor time to make nu}^ peace 

With Him who gave to life its lease; 

But Paul turned round and fired a sliot, 

And felled the foremost of the lot. 

Now that pursuit was at an end, 

We sought no. more to deprehend 

The reason why the wild red face 

Had given us such heated chase. 

But when we reached the camp agnin, 

The news there tilled our hearts with pain. 

Indians had come while we were gone 

And had carried off our little one. 

Beside the tent across the way, 

Our broken hearted mother lay. 

And father, whonj they had left for dead, 

Could scarcely raise his dear old head. 

His wounds proved not to be severe, 

And by the aid of njother dear, 

He soon was well enough to go 

And join the search for little Zo. 

It broke our hearts for Indians wild 

To take away our little child; 

It seemed a living sorrow sent 

To swell the tides of discontent. 

We pledged ourselves in solemn vow 

To get revenge, no matter how. 

Though clouds appear and rains descend, 



14 ZENOBIA. 

And thunders roar and lightnings rend; 

Though rivers flow with deepest flood 

And all run red with human blood; 

Though lions roar and panther's scream, 

Were made to shape each nightly dream; 

Though vengeful be the painted glare 

Of each and every Indian there; 

We vowed to search the forest wild, 

To be revenged or get the child. 

That night we passed in deepest grief. 

And in our tears found no relief, 

And with approaching dawn of day, 

We all did there together pray. 

The day was calm and warm and bright. 

The birds were in their sweet delight, 

And flying through the balmy air, 

Their nests they built with greatest care. 

The dewdrops sparkled in the sun, 

As o'er the sky his course was run; 

And thus they gave back ray for ray. 

Until by zephyrs borne away, 

The horses snuff'ed the morning breeze, 

As if their senses to appease; 

The grass around they would not eat. 

But stand and snort and stamp their feet, 

So then we searched to ascertain 

If Indian tracks did there remain. 

And searching all the hills along. 

We saw a streak both far and strong, 

Rise upon high and yet still higher, 



ZENOBIA. 15 

And this was smoke from wigwam fire, 

And that's the way their signals go, 

To march at once upon the foe. 

Then over hill and over plain, 

And throLigli the woods and hack again, 

And up and down the river brink, 

Where Merced waters rise and sink, 

Through every patli our course we bent, 

Until to nothingness it went. 

But every path and every trail 

Was marked with naught but signs of fail. 
***** 

So fifteen years had passed and gone. 
And rough the road we traveled on; 
'Twas fifteen 3'ears just to a day. 
And mother dear was laid away, 
And sleeps she there in Nature's tomb, 
Where California flowers bloom; 
W^here peaks are lifted to the sky, 
Above the reach of mortal eye. 
So, too, her soul rose high above. 
Where all is peace and joy and love, 
Just fifteen years we searched the plain. 
And searched the hills, but all in vain; 
Our sorrow deepened to despair, 
And father, stooped with aged care. 
While in this mood we thought it best 
To give it up and quit the West. 
Straightway we broke our camp again, 
And started for the Central plain. 



li) ZENOBIA 

Thof^e fifteen 3'ears of search and btrife 

Had taiitj;ht us much of Indian life. 

Their tuneless song vv'e left unsung, 

But learned the language of their tongue. 

We also learned the way to wear 

A painted face and vengeful glare; 

To hold a savage interview, 

And "do in Rome, as Romans do." 

To speak with fluent tongue each name 

And sleep with head next to the flame; 

To pound the acorns into meal, 

And clothe with hides from head to heel; 

To climb with most unerring strides, 

The steepest of the mountain sides; 

To give the war whoop loud and shrill, 

Resounding o'er the Redwood hill; 

To smoke the pipe and pass it on, 

Until the last blue whiff was gone, 

In fact to be true Indian mud, 

All but the origin of the blood. 

We learned the place, and learned it well. 

Where fattest bear are wont to dwell, 

Where roe bucks feed upon the hill, 

And where they go to drink their fill; 

Where curls the snake beside the path; 

How singing birds do take their bath; 

Where hive the native honey bees, 

As to their choice what kind of trees; 

Where builds the prairie dog his town. 

And when you shoot goes tumbling down: 



ZENOBIA. 17 

He, like the crawfish, builds from clay. 

And sits beside to bark and play; 

Where daily sleeps the cotton tail; 

Where flies the swiftest mountain quail; 

Whei-e panthers prowl and scream at night; 

And where the eagle takes his flight, 

And how he watches from on high 

To catch a bird and pluck its eye, 

Or, drops to earth straight through the air, 

To catch an unsus[)ecting hare. 

These things we learned ar.d many more. 

Before we quit the Western shore; 

With aching hearts aiid souls undone. 

Our trip back East was now begun. 

We traveled on — 'twas mating time, 

And flowers were blooming in their prime. 

The eighth of May we pitched our tent, 

And through the w-oods our course we bent; 

Procuring food from wildest game, 

And shooting with the deadliest aim. 

Tired were our limbs from hunting long 

When f.ir off* rung the Indian's song. 

We followed up the tuneles-' sound, 

And there the wigivam camp we found. 

x\nd there we saw a maicien fair 

Ofiering up an Indian prayer. 

My heart leaped up into my throat, 

While her dear words there came afloat, 

But durst not I to interfere 

With such a prayer, so sad and clear. 



18 ZENOBIA. 

She prayed that aiother might be blest, 
Not knowing that she'd been laid to rest. 
In fact she prayed for every one, 
As she no doubt had often done. 
Those fifteen years had been well fpent 
Reading that grand good testament. 
She taught the Indians how to pray; 
v'!^he taught the true and only way, 
As o'er the hills and vales they trod, 
She led the way to truth and God. 
'Twas on the night that she was lost, 
She read about the Pentecost, 
And with a grasp both firm and strong 
She took her testament along. 
So they had stolen her at seven 
And through her had gained a Heaven; 
That book was her ovvn heritage, 
And well she studied every page. 
Our souls did then and there impart 
The sweet communion of the heart. 
Far down the vale Paul lead the way 
To meet our father old and gray. 
And through the early twilight haze 
We saw the lonely campfire blaze, 
And saw the trembling form of man 
Put on the well worn frying pan; 
And by the time we reached the spot 
The frying pan was sizzling hot. 
And then Paul said to father dear, 
Whose sight was not so very clear, 



ZENOBIA. 19 

*'Dear father, here's an Indian girl, 

Whose hair is quite inclined to ourl; 

Sit down and have a merry chat, 

An evening talk, she's good at that." 

Before we three had all agreed 

To break the news with no great speed, 

So long they talked of things that be, 

How all the tribes do disagree. 

She told of how her life was spent, 

How she had read her testament. 

This said he looked in great surprise, 

A sparkle filled his faded eyes. 

His whitened locks he backward flung. 

And spoke in his own native tongue: 

"Oh, can it be, the fates restore 

Back to our arms what we adore! 

Do tell me, stranger, tell me so, 

If you are not my little Zo?" 

Then moving closer to his side. 

She paused a moment, then replied: 

''My father was quite near your size, 

And had the color of your eyes; 

His hair was black, and yours like snow, 

But for all that I'm little Zo." 

Dear father could no longer speak, 

While tears came trickling down his cheek. 

Our every eye was wet with dew 

When closed that evening's interview. 



THE OMEN OF PAUL ST. CLAIRE. 



Lovely childhood! The sweets of mortal life, 
Bright pearl of innocence and glee; 

Around thy fair form sweet scenes entwine 
With lingering beauties of thee. 

Come forth, oh. Muse, with thy ancient power, 

And help my pen to reveal 
The recuring scenes of early life, 

That brought to my youth its weal. 

The loving arms, where my infancy nursed; 

The touch of mother's kind hand, 
The tones of the song, the lullaby song, 

And the words of her last command. 

Oft has she breathed the most tender of prayers. 

And shed a mother's warm tear 
Of love for the pains in the future that wait 

For the child whom she held dear. 



THE OMEN OF PAUL ST. CLAIRE. 21 

The quaint old house that for ages has stood 

Beneath the shady old trees, 
The holly and rose, by the winding path 

Where chased the sweet honey bees. 

The barn and the well, the orchard close by; 

The fields where the peasants plow, 
And many a scene not numbered here 

Is fresh in my memory now. 

Then youth, fair youth, appears to my view. 

Encircled by scenes I adore; 
But we're gliding away from blissful youth. 

Like a ship away from the shore. 

Yes, gliding away o'er the billowy brine 
With hope's bright star as a beam; 

But youth I am with you again on the sward 
For only a moment to dream. 

To dream of birds on a bright summer morn 

Singing their earliest lay. 
And to watch the swallow fly neath the eve, 

There building her nest of clay. 

Once more I listen and methinks I hear 

The voice of the whippoowill, 
Ring out through the long drawn shadows of night 

Then echoed by the distant hill. 



22 THE OMEN OF PAUL ST. CLAIRE. 

And far down the lane, where the hedges meet, 

Still stands the white oak post, 
Where oft in the darkness of the night 

I mistook it for a ghost. 

And here in the shade is the old rope swing 

Which from the oak tree hung; 
Neath the monarch oak, the pride of the world, 

Full many a lover has swung. 

While over the way the nut cracker sits. 

Curling his tail o'er his back. 
Forgetful the while, the sound of the gun 

For no^v there's a nut to crack . 

And here is the elm, beneath whose shade 

The hubbling waters spill; 
How oft has the thirsting heart of youth 

Here drunk his greedy fill. 

Oft, sweet spring, have I loitered around, 

And oft have I dipped thy cup, 
Eagerly trying in m}^ youthful way 

To drink thy sweetness up. 

And I've watched that cup press maidens' lips, 

Oh, Youth, what ecstatic bliss! 
How oft hast thou grasped that rusty cup 

To get e'en a second-hand kiss. 



THE OMEN OF PAUL ST. CLAIRE. 23 

I remember me now one soft Spring morn 

Long after the snow had gone, 
That many sweet williams adorned the hills 

As well as the level lawn. 

The blossoms from that old orchard there 

Sent perfume flying around; 
And the bees while flying to every one 

Commingled their humming sound. 

The mock-birds sung in merriest glee, 

The robbins were mating again, 
The morning breeze came passing along, 

And waved the growing grain. 

.Such was the beauty of that Spring day, 

And I remember as well 
p]ach joy that awaited me on that morn 

As though 'twere yesterday's spell. 

The news had gone to the neighbors around 

That school would begin that day, 
So lassie and lad both far and near 

Were speeding along on their way. 

One continued round of pleasure had we. 

For we knew but a single rule, 
"Work while you work and play while you play" 

Was the motto of our school. 



24 THE OMEN OF PAUL ST. CLAIRE. 

Paul was gay as the gayest that morn 
Whistling the mocking-bird song, 

As over the hills and valleys to school, 
He speeded his way along. 

A shadow then floated across his path, 
He turned and looked upon high, 

And there far above was a raven's form 
Like a freckle against the sky. 

But fifteen summers had passed o'er his head, 

Yet large was he for those years; 
His affable way had brought him to be 

A favorite of all his peers. 

But he was not now so gay as before. 

That shadow haunted him still. 
For oft it is said, to be crossed by such 

Is an omen of something ill. 

Flossie was somewhat younger than he, 

With pleasant bewildering eyes; 
And so it happened that they should meet — 

I would it were otherwise. 

That dear old school house stands there still, 
Battling 'gainst Time's iron band. 

And sad is the thought that his constant touch 
Becomes a withering brand. 



THE OMEN OF PAUL ST. CLAIRE. 25 

There many a well chewed paper wad 

lla? coursed that room across, 
There many a. trick of youth's delight 

Was counted with the dross. 

Yes, many a wad has found its way 

Straight from the thumb of a boy, 
Far be it from me to ever impugn 

Such tricks of innocent joy. 

Oft have I played at some merry game, 

And here I will name a few: 
"What will you do when the black man comes?" 

•'Why, sure, we will run right through." 

While some were playing "the needle's eye," 
Some others played "three old cat," 

Which means that three are to catch behind 
The three who play at the bat. 

And then "town ball" came in for a share 
Likewise did the game "dare base;" 

Nor "tag" nor "blindfold" were cast to one side, 
For the "King," his majesty's grace. 

Such were the games we always enjoyed 

Together with such as we 
Could ever invent to make us feel 

As happy as children could be. 



26 THE OMEN OF PAUL ST CLAIRE. 

But Flossie and Paul together would stroll 

Over the meadows beyond, 
Plucking the wild and beautiful flowers, 

For which they were ardently fond. 

Or sitting beside the old fence stile 

They talked away the hours, 
Exchanging thoughts and glances of love, 

And weaving a wreath of flowers. 

It v.as thus they passed the summer months 

The cliildren of love's sweet bliss; 
Oh, could that summer have lasted an age! 

But to, it left them amiss. 

How oft it is said that youthful love 

Is naught but a passing spell, 
But how it effects the future life 

No sage's pen can tell. 

The fates ordained that he must away, 

A seeker of fortune's fame; 
But with each remove there passed o'er his path 

A shadow that's ever the same. 

His thoughts oft returned to the maiden he loved, 

As oft, he gave a deep sigh, 
And vowed that he would never wed, 

And told of the reason whv. 



THE OMEN OF PAUL ST. CLAIRE. 27 

And so he wandered over the earih, 
And the fortune of weahh ne'er found; 

But every new hope that died on the way 
Set bleeding that painful wound. 

The shadow that flitted across his path 

Was an omen to more than one, 
For deep in her heart were lingering thoughts 

Of the love wreath once begun. 

'Twas an omen to her because he had told 

The tale of his shadowed coarse, 
She termed it but superstition to think 

It a sign of black remorse. 

For several years there came her way 

Full many a handsome swain, 
And still she waited her lover's return; 

But, ah, she waited in vain. 

At last, when hope had forsaken her heart, 

She wedded a noble swain. 
And sought to efface from memory's throne 

All thoughts of a broken chain. 

But oft when the household cares were great 

A shadow came o'er her soul, 
And she thought of the sward where the loving pair 

Went out for a while to stroll. 



28 



THE OMEN OF PAUL tiT. CLAIRE. 



So the hearts of youth that summer's morn 

With pearls of joy were set; 
But the jet-black raven of sorrow threw 

A shadow of deep regret. 

But, ah, we know not how others feel 

They, too, may never forget. 
That the jet-black raven of sorrow throws 

A shadow of deep regret. 

The prettiest flowers of the earl}'- morn 
With the dews of night are wet, 

But a bud that's broken in the early morn 
Stays withered till the sun is set. 

Thus blasted love in the morning of life 
May shadow the soul till night; 

Dear Flossie and Paul, I bid you adieu! 
May your souls in heaven unite. 




A HYMN TO CALIFORNIA. 



Sweet California! Great Columbia's child. 
Born to be fairest of the undefiled; 
Reared on the breast of luxury and pride; 
Where none but sweetly fragrant flowers abide; 
Vv^here poverty is lost in darkest aisle, 
And happiness smiles her sweet bewitching smile; 
Thy golden hills are not as ancient thrones 
O'er looking vales where vile penury moans, 
But lifted high look down upon the dales 
Where thriving worth in beauty yet prevails. 
How pleasant are thy scenes, thy fleecy droves. 
Thy golden poppied hills and shady groves 
Thy ancient caves and Time's own sculptured rocks 
Beneath whose shade there sing the feathered flocks 
Thy precious fields in varigated hue 
That from the god of day his colors drew; 
Thy walks and parks where beauty ever dwells, 
And nature's wealth in splendid richness swells; 
Thy even tempered clime never marks the day 
When passing flowers have gone to their decay; 



30 HYMN TO CALIFORNIA. 

But here thy sweetly scented summer breeze 
Lends perturne to the farthest of the seas. 
Though nursed in luxury thy children know 
That they who wish to reap must likewise sow; 
That sin and crime the darkest places haunt, 
While waste so quickly leads the way to want; 
But what is this within each county seat? 
Ah, ha! I see: 'Tis where disputants meet. 
Here owl -eyed Justice sitting on her throne 
Weighs out to men the fruits of what they've sown, 
While on the distant hill or in the neighboring vale 
The aged master tells his wondrous tale 
To childish forms who gather round his knee, 
Drinking those tales with animated glee, 
But when their minds with inattention stray 
The worthy master leads them to their play. 
And thus each mind in varied pleasure grows 
To love the cares that lessons interpose, 
And the well stored halls of Oriental lore 
Find strength and power upon our Western shore. 
Thou favored land, thy climate has revealed 
The mightiest products the earth can yield, 
The monarch forest reaching to the skies, 
The iron hand of Time and man defies. 
Thy precious gold, the ruler of the hour. 
Touches the world as if by magic power. 
Go sift her sands or pick the deeper vein 
And nature's wealth is made to be thy gain; 
Or, take the plow and till the distant fields, 
And press the fruits of what the vineyard yields; 



HYMN TO CALIFORNIA. 31 

Or, reap the grain, or pluck the fruited tree, 
No matter what, great shall thy harvest be. 
Go seek her ports where deepest harbors lie 
And flags of every nation meet your eye. 
Here Commerce spreads her wings upon the sea, 
Proclaiming to the world "Prosperity!" 
Sweet land, wilt thou behold a waning hour? 
Or, hast thou reached thy pinnacle of power? 
Ye mighty sophists of Oriental fame, 
Sharpen your wits and to the world proclaim. 
If, in the future, such a fate awaits 
Our prosperous land as did such other states;. 
But here experience brings upon us now 
The scars that earth has worn upon his brow, 
The knocks that he has met upon the way 
Left many scars that we should now survey; 
Where states arose and fell beneath their load 
They left a guide for us upon our road. 
Experience! Tis truly kind of thee 
To knock upon the future's door and be 
A guide for those who wish to enter in. 
Lest they should fail beneath a load of sin. 
We turn with fear to nations of the past 
Whose greatness bowed before ambition's blast; 
The hoarded treasures of those ancient Kings 
Reduced their subjects all from men to things. 
That welfare which adorned Italia's plains 
Is gone, and greatness there no longer reigns; 
Jealous Ambition rose within the tower, 
Sought to rule the world or fall beneath its power, 



32 



HYMN TO CALIFORNIA. 



Conquered half the earth, niarched upon the rest 
But foil to the ground for all to be oppressed. 
And, crossing now to that more zealous shore 
We find a land whose fate we all deplore; 
Where Greece,whDse worth has never been excelled 
Met with defeat and all her greatness quelled. 
Oh, Thou mighty Greece! Thou blessed true one, 
Fellest thou here in sad pathetic ruin! 
When conquest rose in Macedonia's land, 
Philip reached forth his strong unconquered hand 
And, as tlie mightiest King, with one great stroke 
Subdued tiiy brave and bade them wear the yoke. 
Oh, learned Athens! Where is all thy lore? 
The robes of greatness which thy people wore? 
Land of the ancient world! Where is thy weal. 
Thy love of truth and aninrated zeal? 
Back to the serf, have all thy people gone. 
And, back to woe, the weal they fed upon. 
Fair California, let thy pleasures glow, 
But watch thy corners lest there be a foe. 
No crowned King has touched thy garments hem. 
Nor hast thou yet been called his power to stem; 
But out of your midst a grey eyed wolf shall come, 
And, lo, the tread of her velvet foot is dumb; 
She comes not forth in armor of a foe 
So long as wealth into her coffers flow, 
But as some snake that holds a bird a prey 
She charms you with peace to suck your blood away 



A TALE OF SORROW. 



"I can no longer sit beside the brook, 

Beneath the sturdy oak tree's heavy shade. 

And watch the catfish nibble at the hook 
Deep in the pool the falling waters made. 

There is no girl with curly auburn hair 
To sit beside or play upon the green, 

While dimples daiice around her cheeks so fair, 
And add so much to the beaut}^ of the scene. 

The joys that filled my breast in youthful days 
No longer find a happy dwelling there; 

My melancholy nature disobeys 

My better judgment, and falls into despair. 

The moment's fly much faster now than then 
And take the cherished hopes that filled my breast 

So now, for me like 'tis for other men 
I seek some other joy, some other rest.- 



34 A TALE OF SORROW. 

Fond hopes farewell! farewell to all my dreams 
Save one, God bless this one where e'er I roam, 

And bless and keep the ever flowing streams 
That bind my aching heart to youth and home- 

I have a single hope at my command — 
A hope that yet defies old Time to call; 

Oh infancy, thou taughtest me to stand 

Mayest thou return and teach me how to fall." 

These were the words of my aged friend, 

At least, if I did not misapprehend; 
And saying thus he bade me adieu 
And where sorrow led he seemed to pursue. 

The name that he bore was Sir William Sloanes 
But always appeared in more cheerful tones. 
I was then but a child in merriest glee 
And many a time had I sat on his knee. 
But at the table where he used to fare 
Was ever after a vacant chair; 
And on through my life his words came to mind 
And moreso when life toward sorrow inclined. 
No matter if youth found pleasure at home 
Or manhood attempted the wild west to roam, 
Those words ever after their sorrow impressed 
And left a sad ray where pleasure should rest. 
In eighteen hundred and forty nine 
We sailed upon the treacherous brine; 
I will not attempt the minutest detail, 



A TALE OF SORROW. 35 

But the thirteenth of March our ship set sail 

With banners flying in splendid array 

From New York port for San Francisco bay. 

When bidding adieu to all of our friends, 

The kisses and tears and all that attends 

The departure of one from his native land. 

Where youth and friendship go hand in hand. 

Went the rounds in the usual way 

With sobs and moans that I cannot portray. 

A sailing ship being our only resource, 

Paul White and I took apartments, of course, 

On board the ship the Gypsy Queen, 

The first in command being Captain Green. 

The anchor was loosed from its hold so strong 

And the ship by this time was moving along. 

Talk as you will of the beautiful shores 

And all of the scenes that the sailor adores, 

I never beheld such a beautiful scene 

As I saw from the deck of the Gypsy Queen. 

The canvass back ships in beauty arose 

From the water lying there in gentle repose. 

Reflection and ship into each other run 

Till you could not perceive where the water begun; 

The banners upon the breezes flew 

Contrasting their colors with heavenly blue; 

The homes that decked the undulated green 

Added their whiteness to the rest of the scene, 

While all uf their beauty was made more sweet 

By the growing distance that spread at our feet. 

But that growing distance filled us all with woe, 



36 A TALE OF SORROW. 

For heavily beat our hearts and alow, 
Yet Paul had the courage to sing us a song 
Before we had passed from the sight of the throng. 
Sad hearts are indeed very hard to subdue 
And doubly so when bidding adieu. 

SONG. 

Sweet land farewell ! a long adieu 

To all in thee the heart endears, 
As o'er the deep and solemn blue 

We view thee through these salty tears. 

The storms may rage, the rains descend 

Upon thy shores and all in vain, 
Bat this our vessel soon may bend 

Beneath the mighty solemn main. 

Our early years here spent with thee 
Have bound our hearts in love's strong chain ; 

This chain shall e'er unbroken be, 
And strengthen with each throbbing pain . 

Though bitter woes do o'er us creep 
As here these thoughts we would recite 

'Tis sweet to know your hearts will leap 
When loving hearts again unite. 

Our dear old ship is fairly strong 

And this a most courageous crew, 
And as we swiftly speed along 

We bid to thee, sweet land, adieu ! 

By the time he had spoken the last adieu 

Full many an eye was wet with dew. 

There was nothing of import occurred on the way^ 



A TALE OF SORROW. 6i 

At least there was nothing I wish to portray, 
Until we were nearing that southern horn 
That the seas' mad waves have made so forlorn. 
My m'lse becomes tired of a constant repeater, 
He therefore wi?hes a change of meter. 

The wind had blown since early morn 

Which caused our ship to wander from her course 
And blackest clouds had gathered round the horn 

Which added terror to the other force. 
As night came on destruction seemed more sure 

So Paul and I prepared to meet the worst 
And slept by turn the better to endure 

The hardships of a dreaded wreck, but first 
We saw that there was nothing we could do 
By way of aiding passengers or crew. 

So all night long the faithful prayed to God 

To be delivered from a watery grave 
And some left not an inch of floor untrod 

While thinking of the scenes beneath the wave 
And not a few let tears flow thick and fast 

When e'r the ship would roll from side to side, 
And with their sobs outmoan the dreaded blast, 

For which the peevish oft were heard to chide, 
But Paul and I retired and slept by turn, 
And thus we passed the night in unconcern. 

When time approached to day's advancing light 
The clouds in their terrific costumes shone 



38 A TALE OF SORROW. 

As if by angry devils put to flight, 
To pour their torrents o'er the mighty moan, 

Which when swayed by whirlwind's awful sweep 
Rolled mountain high with yawning gulfs between 

And then, oh God! with one ferocious leap 
The lightning stretched across the scene 

And left its mark upon the parted clouds 

To strip oar ship of all her tangled shrouds. 

Then like the roar of cannon from a fort. 

Where hard fought battles rage with mighty roar 
The thunders filled the air with deep report, 

Which shook the torrents from their clouded store 
The brave and watchful captain cleared the wreck 

Of splintered masts and wet and tangled sail, 
And with his might he worked to counter check 

The awful power of the maddened gale. 
And had our captain been a man leys brave 
We would no doubt have filled a watery grave. 

Up from the east the golden sun arose 

And darkness melted into glorious light, 
While all around we saw the scenes transpose 

Which put the terrors of the heart to flight. 
And all the folded clouds did soon expand 

And pass beyond where mortals sleep 
And then as if the unseen spirit gave command, 

Quiet prevailed upon the rolling deep, 
And though our main mast went into the sea 
Our weary souls were filled once more with glee. 



A TALE OF SORROW. 39 

We felt more safe when we bad passed the horn; 
Shakespeare, wh}' askest thou : What's in a name? 
I say, to all who saw that stormy morn, 

Pacific struck the ear with sweet acclaim. 
The crew worked hard to straighten out the sail, 

That is what sail was left to straighten out. 
For part had gone with that terrific gale, 

And what was left was scattered round about. 
That we were safe was easy to be seen, 
And all agreed that "God had saved the Queen." 

Our passage up the western coast was slow 

And unattended by exciting spells, 
Though now and then a heavy gale would blow, 

But not enough to make enormous swell^^. 
Our Captain kept the ship far out at sea, 

And sighted land but twice upon the way, 
But all on board were happy as could be 

When landed safe in San Francisco Bay, 
'Twas there we bade adieu to Captain Green, 
Likewise to all on board the Gypsy Queen. 

That year they came from every part of earth 

To search the hills for California gold. 
They thought that every sparkling thing was worth 

The value of an ancient copyhold . 
The streets were filled with men from every land. 

And every race beneath the shining sun; 
Though female souls were then in great demand. 

For men out numbered women ten to one. 



40 A TALE OF SORROW. 

So Paul and I wished not to linger long 

Within the bounds of this well mixed up throng. 

My notion was to go alone throughout 

The hills and valleys, searching like the rest, 
But Paul thought wise to hire an Indian scout, 

And now I plainly see that he thought best, 
But I prevailed and so we went alone. 

First though we got a saddle horse apiece 
And packed three burros well with bread and bone. 

These hardships made our appetites increase, 
So by the time we got well on the road 
We found it needful to increase our load. 

Although our burros were both old and slow 

We soon had crossed the swamps below the bay 
To where the Catholic mission made a show 

Near by the lovely site of San Jose. 
The people whom we met and passed among 

Were Spanish speaking men and not well bred. 
But one afternoon a darkey came along. 

And when I asked concerning game, he said: 
•'Well sah, de mountain b'ar am wild and fierce, 
And feathered varmint too am mighty skeerce." 

We crossed the hills and then the San Joaquin 
And here one burro quit and would not go, 

We coaxed and whipped and wasted all our spleen 
And still the burro would not stir, although 

He ate the grass as far as he could reach. 



A TALE OF SORROW 



41 



We packed hi8 load upon the other two, 
And journeyed on there .leaving him to bleach 

His bones as all such brutes had ought to do; 
But four days passed and just when we had dined 
Here came the burro we had left behind. 

That afternoon I wandered up the dell 

And far above I saw a rising smoke 
While fears arose which I could not disp<el 

And with each rising fear I seemed to choke; 
But on I went determined to find out 

If he who camped so near were friend or foe, 
And wishing not to be seen I played the scout 

And strolled around my fears to overthrow; 
But no, and even yet my heart bemoans, 
For lo, it was my friend Sir William Sloanes. 

There I saw the old man kneeling, 
And his words came o'er me stealing, 
Like the sound of bells when pealing 

Solemn strokes of measured rhyme; 
So when now the bells are chiming, 
Solemn thoughts assist my rhyming, 
And methinks I see him climbing 

O'er the broken hills of Time. 

Old and bent the worthy master, 
Older grew and yet still faster, 
When the thoughts of hope's disaster 
Pierced and pained his aged breast; 



42 A TALE OF SORROW. 

Though his locks were long and hoary, 
Strength remained to tell the story 
Of each hope to life a glory, 
Till that hope was laid at rest. 

Yet the flush ot youth came over 
Every wrinkle of the rover, 
Like the bloom upon the clover. 

Mingled with the rocks of Time: 
These appeared when thoughts of pleasure 
Over filled his heart's own measure 
To become the sweetest treasure 

Crowning age with boks sublime. 

"Oh, the way that 1 have worried 
O'er the hopes that there lie buried 
On the hills o'er which I hurried 

To the slopes of life's decline; 
Trembling age at last has caught me 
And the dearest lesson taught me, 
'Tis to trust in Him who brought me 

To this life which I resign. 

"Every hope," said he, "does vanish, 
And its pain I've tried to banish, 
But with every stroke I planish 

Fetters for my aching heart; 
And with melancholy madness 
I have bound my heart in sadness 
Which should sparkle with its gladness 

And be free from any dart." 



A TALE OF SORROW. 43 

Then he emphasized each letter, 
Making every accent hetter, 
Grasping each unbroken fetter 

Tore theni from his withered heart. 
''Get thee from me pairiful sorrow, 
Seek no more to beg or borrow. 
My heart for thy piercing arrow, 

There's no room for thy vile dart." 

Oh, the sight to see him sobbing, 
And to hear his heart a throbbing, 
While his soul was there disrobing, 

Leaving flesh for earthly shrine. 
Rising then the old man stumbled, 
And upon the ground he tumbled, 
And in dying accents mumbled: 

"Let me rest in neace divine!" 



LOVE'S FAREWELL KISS. 



No more shall we meet, dear Gertie, where love 
Can heal the sharp wound that controls, 

Yet the brightest dream that falls from above 
Is to dream of reunion of souls. 

Though long have I sought a blissful retreat 
From that sweet, sad, painful sorrow, 

Yet the sunset of hope is longing to meet 
That same sweet pain on the morrow. 

Still there is something quite pleasant 

In grief from a lover's last kiss, 
For hope, so sweetly incessant, 

Does make it a melancholy bliss. 

How sweet to think of last meeting 
There among the bloom laden trees, 

Where love to love gave sweetest greeting 
And perfume swelled the summer breeze. 



love's farewell kiss, 

I gently pressed thee to my bosom, 
And heart to heart did fondly beat; 

Oh, why should cruel pride unbosom, 
While lip to lip gave nectars sweet? 

But such was fate to us, dear Gertie, 
Our loving hearts were rent atwain, 

For haughty pride is ever sturdy 
And doubly so when parents reign. 



45 




TO J. S. HAWKINS. 



The years are on the wing, dear Jack, 
The years are on the wing, 

And sad to think we call not back 
The joys we backward fling. 

The thread we weave into the past, 
The warp and woof of years. 

Is to me sweet for it is classed 
With pearls of friendship's tears. 

I will not say that life is sad, 

I will not coin the lie, 
For twice a lad, and thrice a dad, 

Is more than wealth can buy. 

'Tis far apart we two must dwell. 
Or so the fates have ruled, 

And yet 'tis well, no pen can tell 
How friendship might be cooled. 



To J. S. HAWKINS. 



47 



And distance may be overcome 
And if thy prayers attend, 

I'll hie away and spend a day 

With thee, my heart- warm friend. 

But Time is on the wing, dear Jack, 

Old Time is on the wing, 
And sad to think we call not back 

The joys we backward fling. 




MY JULIA. 



To the hills and vales where flowers bloom 
And give off perfume sweetly, 

I'll hie away to spend a day 
Enrapt with joy completely; 

But ere I go, I'd have you know- 
That pleasure is unruly 

Without ray bride close at niy side, 
My own fair happy Julia. 

But seashore trips I like the best 

And don't you e'er be doubting, 
For maidens fair dress almost bare, 

When at their summer outing. 
Oh, where is bliss that's like to this. 

E'en though I tell you truly, 
I take my wife, my joy, my life, 

My own fair happy Julia. 

But, ah, you know not what befell 
When we went out last summer, 

My pretty bride lost all her pride 
And ran off with a plumber; 



MY JULIA. — TO LOVE. 49 

But do not weep 3^ourself to sleep 

Nor tell my aged mother, 
Just snve your tears and have no fears 

For I have got another. 



TO LOVE. 



Whence is, Love, the fullness of thy soul? 

And when in heaven's name was it begun? 
Thy children murmur not at thy control. 

Which is, oh Love, as ancient as the sun. 

In youth thou comest forth in sweet array 
Adorning all with thy ecstatic bliss 

And yet in age Thou losest not a ray 
Nor sendest e'en a single one nmiss. 

Thou creepest on the wrinkles of old age 

Like dancing moon-beams on the frosty snow; 

But great, oh. Love, is that sweet heritage 
When thou and smiling youth together glow. 

The mighty oaks give way beneath their load; 

The rocks bow down to Time and his decay; 
And men pass on to their "last sad abode," 

But Thou, O Love, proceedest on thy way. 



TO A FRIEND. 



In this fair country where no frosty snows 
Disturb the blooming of the fragrant rose; 
Where all the seasons form themselves in one 
And feel the glow of each returning sun; 
I stopped a while beside the lonely stream 
To pluck the numbers from fair Nature's theme. 

For you, my friend, whose better judgement leods 
A happy life in pleasant rural meads, 
Desire to read in numbers or in prose 
Descriptions which my travels oft propose. 

Oh, happy Muse, divinely tune the lyre 
For heights to which subliiner bards aspire; 
Touch thou my soul to sweet concordant strains 
To sing anew of scenic hills and plains, 
Where with thy own communion oft I stray 
And learn to love thee dearer as I play. 
For thou hast lead me through distant lands to roam 
And in their solitudes to find my home. 
Attend ye flowers with sweetest breath attend 



TO A FRIEND. 51 

And to the glorious morn your fragrance lend. 
Ye zephers come, and let tLe dews take wing 
That nurtured still my soul may better sing, 
For in these solitudes the soul obeys 
The melancholy touch the muse conveys, 
And gentl}^ flows the rhythm to the then>e. 
Like the rippling murmurs of the rural stream; 
The cricket's mueic and the echo's spell 
O'er the moving shadows of the evening swell; 
And rapt to golden dawn the happy strains 
Aie borne by zephers over hills and plains, 
Where joined by music of the feathered clan 
Inspire the gentle thoughts of woeful man. 

As when Pygmalion kissed the marble lip 
(Which was the choice of all his workmanship,) 
And felt ihe coldness of that chisled stone 
Turn into virgin warmth and meet his own; 
Just so with me, I feel all nature glow 
With virgin blushes, and I love them so. 

When ancient bards had tuned the lyre to please 
And sv/ept the cords with melancholy ease, 
The future ages all enchanted came 
And bowed in honor to the muse's flame; 
Heavenly sphere's attendant on each strain 
Circling away came circling back again; 
While soft voiced echoes round the music thronged 
And the ceasing notes of every strain prolonged 
'Till now methinks that on the pensive ear 
No tone is half so sweet nor half so clear. 

And so where Albion's hills and smiling vales 



52 TO A FRIEND. 

Were animated by the nightingales; 
Or on the castled banks of the winding Rhine 
Where people till the soil to grow the vine: 
Or where Italia't^ plains are decked with flowers 
And heaven's nectars fall in pearly showers; 
Or where Olympus held the gilded throne 
And gods oft met in parlance of their own, 
The themes were found by bards of other days 
Whose souls o'erflowed with their descriptive lays; 
Likewise for me these hills their beauties lend 
To glorify my course and give it trend. 
From the yet famous fields of Valley Forge 
To where the cliffs o'erhang the Royal Gorge, 
And on where mountains rear their heads in snow 
To where Columbia's deepest waters flow, 
Through gorgeous hills my snake-like course I bend 
Nor hasten on but drink the joys they lend. 

In this soft silence I am led to sing 
Of flowery vales where living waters spring; 
Of mountain trout that thrup the crystal pond 
And send the cheerful waves in circles round; 
Of virgin falls that spread the silvery veil 
And leap the rugged cliffs into the dale; 
Of rock-bound gulfs where icy waters flow 
Relieving higher mountains of their snow; 
Of silent Time who slowly eats away 
While ancient rocks go tumbling with decay; 
Yet, like fair Greece, majestic in their fall, 
Their pomp responds through echo's mystic call, 
And as these walls inclose me round about 



TO A FRIEND. 53 

I shout .ind still they give hack shout for shout. 
And thus I find in all my course around, 
That as I speak kind nature will respond; 
A pensive bard sings but a pensive lay, 
A pleasant soul finds pleasure every day; 
The sad-faced dove, a long drawn pensive cou, 
And as you sing all nature sings to you. 

Now on the bank of the desert strean:; I stand 
And see her waters sink beneath the sand; 
Now by Missouri's waters T am lead 
To see them hollow out their mountain bed; 
Now slowly trace them back to bubbling springs 
I'o see how great grow out of smaller things; 
And when my eyes some newer scenes require 
To the gorgeous Colorado I retire, 
And from those massive mountains looking doun 
I see the gapping canon's awful frown 
And watch those eddies whirling as they play 
That down below are cataract'd away. 

Yet as I look my thoughts return to you 
And plensant scenes our happy childhood knew; 
In that old brick, we school boys, looking down 
Surveyed the bounds of that old Quaker town; 
Which there in all her simple beauty lay 
The pride of them, the spirit moves to pray; 
For honest quakers oft to worship go 
And as the spirit moves they worship so; 
This time exhort, the next in prayer beseech 
The power from on high to better preach; 
Or, sit in silence when no spirit moves 



54 TO A FRIEND. 

For oft the weary spirit disapproves. 

And yet in all my wandering aronnd 
No better class of peo})le have I found; 
To Heaven's call the multitudes respond 
And strive to reach that blissful home beyond; 
Their peaceful lives let virtue lead the way 
To make felicity of every day. 

But why call up this Quaker town alone 
For there a thousand villiages have grown, 
Where happy youth in all his sportive glee 
Grew monarch of the fields as Avell as we. 
Fired by a thousand hopes of future bliss 
You to follow that and I to follow this; 
Our hearts flashed bright with every fliut-like ray 
Which, coming quickly, quickly passed away. 
Yet who dare say that man or even brute 
Finds in possession more joy than in pursuit; 
For when in youth the fairy butterfly 
Sailed oui of reach another one was nigh; 
Just so 'tis now fond hopes I yet pursue 
And as they vanish find pleasure in the new. 

I turn my eyes <o view the upper air 
Where Zeus and his lover oft repair, 
And with their lovely graces interfere 
With all the beauties of the passing sphere, 
And there behold in fleecy chambers lie 
Those lovers whom the heavens glorify. 
But Zeus tried to fool his better half 
By changing lo to the form of calf, 
So all succeeding females learned to rise 



TO A FRIEND. " 65 

And watch their husband with an hundred eyes, 
Lest in the darkness of his secret path 
He grow inconstant as the wife of Bath. 

Oh, Callisto, thy bear-like form portrays 
The beauty which the gods were wont to praise, 
For even now though changed into a bear, 
Thy starry eyes are many times more fair; 
'Tis not for thee o'er Eastern hills to creep, 
Nor pass the Western slope into the deep; 
But ever thine to keep a watchful eye 
Upon the fruits of Juno's jealousy. 

Back to the Earth T turn my visual ray 
And here behold the San Francisco bay; 
And as I wind her sandy coast around 
I tread, methinks on consecrated ground; 
For here Castillians blessed the sacred moss 
And raised on high Dolores' holy cross; 
How often were the natives made rejoice 
By gentle accents of the padre's voice; 
For, as to wildest tribes good Sera lead, 
He often lifted up his voice and said: 
"Come to the church and here receive the faith 
That gives eternal life even through death!" 
So on to many tribes the padre hied 
'Treaching Jesus Christ and Him crucified." 

Who sees but death sees not the nobler plan, 
Which brings me now to view the tomb of man. 
With slow and measured step 1 tread the ground 
W^here the last sad resting place of man is found; 
For it there is a sacred spot of earth 



56 TO A FRIEND. 

'Tis here that man pays well for what 'tis worth; 
And though his soul fly to celej<tial air 
His dust must to the solemn tomb repair 
And there beneath the weeping willows lie 
All stripped, yes, stripped of immortality; 
Monarch for a day, then fill an earthly urn 
For "soul to soul and dust to dust return." 
Yet not content Vv^ith nature's unkind laws 
Man destroys man and seeks to find a cause; 
Nation against nation stands arrayed 
To bathe in human blood the battle blade; 
With bow and arrows men have learned to slay 
And bloody war has marked the pilgrim's way; 
Of all the evils that the 3'ears disclose, 
War's desolations bring the worst of woes; 
Surviving men are left in sorrow's gloom 
And all the Earth is made one mighty tomb. 

When Actaeon saw^ Diana's naked form 
Her face flushed red with anger's fiery storm; 
And still afraid lest he should make his brag, 
She changed his form into a fleet-foot stag; 
Then oft' he sprung, chased b}- his <nvn loud pack, 
O'er hill and vale, then circled on his track, 
But all in vain, he fell a luckless prey 
To hounds he once had cheered upon their way. 
And thus with war, it follows up the plan 
And conquers soon or late })oor foolish man; 
The very man thai cheers the battle on 
In battle falls and finds his life-blood gone. 
Oh, Arbitration! thou, the Prince of Peace, 



TO A FRIEND. " 57 

We search for thee as for the golden fleece; 
When thou art come no son Against sire shall rise, 
Nor smoke from warring nations fill the skies; 
' Tis then the force of war will all be spent, 
The bows be broken and the spears be bent. 
With uondering eye the Britain views the state 
That grew to be the pride of all the great; 
Out of dependence independence grew 
And round her form the cloak of liberty threw, 
So let us teach, and teach it while we may, 
That aribitration casts a peaceful ray, 
While education finds her lot to be 
The kind protector of thai liberty. 

Let nymphs that seek the solitude to dwell 
And echo-like fast weave the mystic spell. 
There hold in ecstacy the listening woods 
Or still the roaring of the swift flowing floods; 
But round the humble fireside let there be 
The guardian angel of sweet liberty; 
For what is life but seeking after bliss 
Which ne'er can be when Freedom goes amiss. 
He who seeks bliss must feel hor spirit burn. 
Who sec'ks without finds but an empty urn. 

But I must check my muse's lengthening la\', 
For duty calls and I must soon away; 
Back to the hill where purling water flows 
I take my course to find my sweet repose; 
And when in death I reach my journey's end, 
I hope to meet my life-long cherished friend; 
Oh, may we then have memories of the hours 



58 TO A FRIEND. 

When here we watched the varigated flowers 
Lean o'er the brooklet like Narcissus' shade 
To kiss reflections w^hich the waters made. 



THE BANNER OF FREEDOM. 



A FOURTH OF JULY POEM. 



Far in the depths of the dark distant past 

An Angel of Freedom spread her broad vving, 
And searched through the earth for a land more vast 
To aid in deliverance from a tyrannical King. 
Then up with her banner, her pinions spread wide, 
Like an angel of love, a nation's fair pride, 
On a proud oaken staff" let there be unfurled 
The banner of Freedom, the pride of the world. 

That Angel, plume-clad in the white robes of glory 
Sailed on and on through the darkness of the past, 
vSailed on o'er kingdoms whose battle blade gory 
In each new war bathed the stains of the last; 
Sailed on and on 'bove the war-clouds of Time 
In search of this, fair America's clime, 
A nd plucked from the skies their stars and unflurled 
The banner of Freedom, the pride of the w'orld. 



THK BANNER OF FREEDOM. 59 

Strong was the clasp of the b.inds and the chnin 

That bound every soul to an imbecile King; 
To the true and the brave all eft'ort was vain 

Till the Angel of Freedom had spread her wing; 
Then the hope that filled each patriot's breast 
Fanned into flame till their wrongs were redressed, 
On a, proud oaker staff w^as there unfurled 
The banner of Freedom, the pride of the world. 

With the "hatchet" of truth, and hearts for the right 
They burst every band and loo.«ed every chain, 
Forthe Angel of Freedom keptgnard thro' the fight 
And the tyrant of old was bowed with the slain, 
No more could he stretch his tyrannical hand 
Across to oppress America's fair land; 
From the historic oak was still unfurled 
The banner of Freedom, the pride of the woild. 

This done th(' black clouds of war rolled away. 

And Freedom led on to prosperity; 
The nation that learned to worship this day 

Plas bequeathed all her rights to the sons of the free 
Oh, may they still keep and contin.ue to love 
Those rights that are dear as the angels above. 
And may they continue ti» keep there unfurled 
The banner of Freedom, the pride of the world. 

As the smoke rolled away they oast out all hate, 

And wept o'er the tonU) of merciless crime; 
So onward and onwai-d our great "ship of state" 



60 THE BANNER OF FREEDOM. 

Spreads her fair sails on the broad sea of Time; 
She seeks no supremacy o'er other known lands 
But grants unto others the rights she demands; 
While ever above her we see unfurled 
The banner of Freedom, the pride of the world. 

She sailed through the Ftorm of rebellion and strife 

And broke every link in slavery's strong chain. 

Posterity must guard 'gainst the tyrant's new life 

Lest he find birth in avaricious gain, 
For out of the darkness a wolf shall come, 
And the tread of the grey-eyed beast is dumb, 
And she is heard not though we see there unfurled 
The banner of Freedom, the pride of the world. 

Beware of the lank-ribbed wolf in time, 

For yea, the power in monopolized wealth, 
And the green-eyed leopard of sin and crime 

Is destructive of peace and moral health. 
Thou tyrant, we rise and look down upon thee 
With pity and scorn that are born of the free; 
We will let no beast of the night be curled 
Round the staff of Freedom, theprideof the world. 

Turn here and look up toward heaven's great dome 
And the red, white and blue there meet the glad eye 

Or sail o'er the seas and above the white foam 
Our banner of Freedom adorns every sky. 

'Tis not a "sad relic of departed worth" 

But an emblem of the bravest of earth 



THE BANNER OF FREEDOM. — FLOSSIE RAME. 61 

On a proud oaken staff there remains unfurled 
The banner of Freedom, the pride of the world. 

So bring forth the cannon, fire-crackers and all, 
And join in this grand and great celebration, 
From ever}^ hamlet we still hear the call, 

That Freedom's the watchword over the nation. 
God bless and preserve her in grandest array, 
And bless every soul on our nation's birthday, 
For again we have met to see here unfurled 
The banner of Freedom, the pride of the world. 



FLOSSIE RAME. 



The morning glories oped their eyes 
While floating clouds bad streaked skies, 
The pearly dews were lingering yet 
Where zephyrs and the perfumes met; 
The honey-bees did hum the tune 
That marked the coming days of June, 
While back from the distant farmyard came 
The charming voice of Flossie Rame. 

Adown the winding country road 
The villiage njaster often strode, 



62 FLOSSIE RAME. 

The idle hours to pass awa}^ 

On the beauties of the early day. 

He knew not why his heart should leap, 

When distant song did o'er him creep, 

Yet every njorn he felt the same 

On hearing the voice of Flossie Rame. 

In hopeful hours he dared to dream 
Of stately halls and courts supreme, 
Of coachmen proud and horses gay 
To drive abroad in grand array, 
Of winding walks in garden plot, 
Where fortune smiles and murmurs not; 
Then floating across the meadow came 
The song from the lips of Flossie Rame. 

"That voice," said he, "is light and gay 
As bobolink in early May. 
No heavy heart could voice the glee 
That wings its way across the lea. 
No soul but sweetest maidenhood 
Could fill with song the distant wood; 
I ne'er have met with lass or dame 
With voice so sweet as Flossie Rame." 

"Never again shall haughty pride 
Within my throbbing heart abide. 
The sweets of life are more times felt 
Where wealth or fame has never dwelt, 
And blessed contentment lingers round 



FLOSSIE RAME. — OLD GIVES WAY TO NEW. iV^ 

The heart that, pride has never found, 
The joy my spirit would reclaim 
Inspires the song of Flossie Rame." 

"Thou haiight}^ pride, thou hollow name 
Go seek the shaky ladder of fame; 
Go lift thy head in self esteem 
But leave me here with joys to beam. 
I'll stay where they have learned the song 
That bears ihe spirit of joy along, 
And learn to sing with sweet acclaim 
That song as sung by Fbssie Rame." 



THE OLD GIVES WAY TO THE NEW. 



Ye distant vales, ye blooming fields, 
. Y^e pleasant hills where flowers bloom, 
And to the morning zephers yield 

The fullness of your sweet perfume; 
Look to the fashions of the day! 

We bow not now to your decree, 
But leave your beauties to decay 

To watch the maiden in her glee. 



64 THE OLD GIVES WAY TO THE NEW. 

Our sight was once consumer 
Of the beauties you reveal; 
Bat now its on the bloomer 
And the bloomer's on the wheel. 

Back in the days of forty- nine 

When California bloomed with gold, 
The boys and girls around the mine 

Did dance to music worn and old. 
The old Virginia reel was taught 

And danced by old and young alike 
But in those days they never thought 

Of such a horrid word as ''bike." 
Now we care not to be dancin' 

O' the ol' Virginia reel; 
For all eyes are on the bloomer 
And the bloomer's on the wheel. 

The good old days are past and gone, 

The footman now is nowhere seen. 
The road that horses traveled on 

Is covered with the new machine. 
The melancholy thought does briiig 

Into my eyes the flowing tears; 
My dappled gray has lost, poor thing, 

The place he held for many years. 
He ne'er will be resiimer 

Of his former cherished weal, 
For all eyes are on the bloomer 
And the bloomrr's on the wheel. 



GREED FOR GAIN. 65 

grep:d for gain. 



Here broad stretched upon this land I see 
The ever cherished form of Liberty. 
That liberty which knows no King's command, 
Which knows not ought but rightfully demand 
Those rights with which all men were first endowed 
Before the Kingly uian was garland browed. 
'Tis not for me to spurn the Kingly state, 
But only give the thoughts of those who hate 
Oppressor's rods, and yea, old Slavery's chain. 
Which now is wrought by, Hellish greed for gain. 
But should I sing a satirising strain, 
When Freedom's blood does coarse thro' ever}^ vein? 
But ah, sad thought, a most sad thought indeed, 
A land of Plenty, yet, a land of Need. 
Dear Huntington to you T wish to say, 
To your dishonest and offensive clay, 
You, whose pilfered gold ha^* never met defeat. 
You, whose soul the wrath of Hell must meet, 
Your every act a scorpion's nest will prove 
To hatch out broods no cunning can remove. 
To you. who think my words are much too strong. 
And think perchance that I am in the wrong, 
Look, where the funding bill's vile nest is hung. 
Look, where that corporation's chart was sprung, 
Look, where the gold from peasant's hands is wrung 
If that be good, mj song should go unsung. 



66 OUR SCHOOL VACATION. 



OUR SCHOOL VACATION 



Come away! Come away! 
Come away you girls and boys. 
Leave hehincl your city toys, 

And we'll have a short vacation in the morning, 
Come away to where the rills 
Flow from out the rugged hills, 

And the merry birds are singing in the morning. 

CHORUS. 

Come away! Come away! 
Come away to where the hearts are all a beating 

Come away! Come away! 
For the birds will give you all a merry greeting. 

Come a way ! Come away ! 

Come away from work and school, 

Leave behind the teacher's rule 
And we'll spend the summer months in recreation. 

Come and join our merry band, 

As we all go hand in hand: 
Oh, the fun that we will have in our vacation! 



TO APOLLO. 67 

TO APOLLO. 



Thou over gracious Apollo! 

Presiding Judge of the Muses, 
Teach thou my soul to follow 

The perfume thy art diffuses, 

Lead forth into the garden 

Where grow the blooming verses^ 
And let me ask no pardon 

For the songs my soul rehearses. 

There teach me how to gather 
The fairest of the flowers, 

To make more sweet, or rather 
To wreathe with happy hours. 

Teach me to pluck the flavor 
Leaving the stalk still planted; 

I ask no greater favor 
Than others have been granted. 

The greatest of the sages 

Whose souls sweet verse perfuses-, 
The fairest of all ages 

Were favored by the Muses. 

So bring me in communion 

With the beauties of all nature 

Allowing no disunion 

Of extensive nomenclature. 



6S HEROES OF LIBERTY, 



THE HEROES OF LIBERTY. 



Oft in the shadows of mouriiful thought 
A lingering scene of the past is found, 
The past whose awful battles were fought 
In defense of God and liberty's orround. 
The monarchs of old were lost in the tide 
Of flowing blood where heroes have died, 
Have died and commingled their bones with dust 
In defense of a cause that is ever just. 
So today we honor that heroic band 
Whose glories are ever on the wing. 
There's eternal life for them and their land 
For their love of Liberty is our King. 

So tell me not ye bards of today 

That the heroes who fought in that cause are dead ; 

'Twas a costly price they were called on to pay 

For the flag that now floats high over your head. 

Yet eternal life they found on the field 

When the monarchs of old were there made to yield 

And the onward roll of the passing years 

Shall but lengthen the lives that our nation endears 



HEROES OP LIBERTY. 69 

And today we honor that heroic band 
Whose glories are ever on the wing, 
There's eternal life for them and their land 
For their love of Liberty is our King. 

We look with pride o'er this glorious land 

To the countless homes of the brave and the free, 

To the evergreen vales so grandly grand 

And the hills all crowned with prosperity. 

Ye vales that bloom to beauty and health, 

Ye hills that abound in millions of wealth, 

What would your beauty and richness be 

Were it not for the blessings of sweet liberty. 

So up and hurrah! for Liberty's land, 

Her glories are ever on the wing. 

There's eternal life for heaven's free band, 

And their love of Liberty is our King. 

Ye Liberty loving heroes of the past 

Ijook to the earth from your celestial throne 

And behold the fruits of the seed you cast 

To be nurtured in your blood until grown. 

Behold a nation great, wise Mnd free; 

Behold her ships upon every sea; 

Behold a people, that honor the brave 

Who laid down their lives great Freedom to save. 

So hip, hip, hurrah! for Liberty's land, 

Her glories are ever on the wing, 

There's eternal life for heaven's free band 

And their love of Liberty is our King. 



HAPPINESS. 



HAPPINESS. 



Some men are happy while others are not 

Though pome of their reasons I long since forgot. 

But one, 1 am sure, said his full stock in trade is 

To be on good terms with all of the ladies. 

Another is happy because it is clear 

That he hasn't a neighbor, comrade or peer 

Who can order a dinner in quality as fine 

As the order he gives when he goes out to dine. 

Another is happy and contented with life 

Because he succeeded in getting a wife; 

While another finds pleasure in working his art, 

E'en though ambition finds not there a part. 

True pleasure is found, says one, if you seek 

The joy of others seven days in the week. 

But another tries to accomplish in life 

So much that it brings to him misery and strife. 

Josh Billings was right when he said to the press 

That "Nothing succeeds so well as success." 

But as for myself I have troubles indeed, 

And yet I am happy to see others succeed. 

So we each have a hobby that each of us ride, 

And even the ladies do now sit astride 

And there take pleasure in riding a "bike." 

So all are happy in that which we like. 



MARGARITE. 



7i 



MARGARITE. 



Margarite, Margarite, 

Who said "thou art not sweet?" 
The fragrant roses of the field 
Their perfumes to the breezes yield; 
The lillies in the garden dwell, 
And in their purity do well; 

Yet thou art sweet. 

Margarite, Margarite, 
Who said "thou art not neat?" 
The morning glories ope their eyes 
As soon as dawn has streaked the skies; 
The daisies and the buttercup 
Are all in sweetness swallowed up; 
Yet thou art sweet. 

Margarite, Margarite, 
Who said "thou art a cheat?" 
The helitrope that climbs the wall 
And makes the June bugs far to fall; 
The pansies with their mixtured hue 
Are pretty when wet with pearly dew; 
Yet thou art sweet 



72 TO A SNATL. 



TO A SNATL. 



This snail crawled from a flower pot onto my carpet 
and died before getting half way across. It left a slimy 
trail, which, when dry, resembled silver. 

Thou .«lowly moving creature, 

Thou windest thy way along, 
O'er the deserts of my carpet 

Nor heed the passing throng. 

So slow and yet how constant 

Is the moving of the form, 
No fits and starts of anger 

Are waxing around thee warm. 

Thy winding trail upon my carpet 

Is silvery as the moon; 
But lo, thy desert course has brought thee 

To thy death before thy noon. 

How like the lives of many men, 
Who crawl o'er the sands of Time, 

And reach their death just at the point 
That should be manhood's prime. 

But could the trail of man be scanned 

As plainly as thine own; 
Where is the man who would care to see 

The fruits of what he's sown. 



LAY OF THE LAST MAGNATE. 73 



THE LAY OF THE LAST MAGNATE— C. 
P. HUNTINGTON. 



(after SCOTT.) 



The way was long, the wind was cold, 
The magnate was infirm and old, 
His withered cheek and hairless pate 
Seemed to have known a better fate. 
The "bill," his only ''funding bill" 
Was handled not to suit his will. 
The worst of all rich men was he, 
To eat the honey and starve the bee. 
So when to congress he had fled 
He found his tuneful servants dead. 
And he, neglected and oppressed. 
Wished to be with them and at rest; 
No more in congress could he stand 
And to his servants give command. 
No longer courted and caressed. 
High placed in hall, a welcome guest; 
He paid no honest debts of old 
But sought to void them with his gold. 
Old times have changed, and all because 
More honest men now make the laws; 



74 LAY OF LAST MAGNATE. — THE JOLLY THREE. 

God grant that now and for all tinrje 
They call his thieving art a crime. 
He quits the halls of congress now, 
To mop the sweat from off his brow. 
And seek for friend? among the poor, 
Whom he had robbed of all their store . 
He tunes to please a peasant's ear, 
The harp no goldbug cares to hear. 
For while he sweeps the golden thread, 
He robs them of their "dailv bread." 



HURRAH FOR THE JOLLY THREE. 



air: "marching through Georgia.' 



Fill up the bowl my jolly boys 

And fill it to the crown, 
We'll drink the health of girls and boys 

Who live in Amboy town, 
And sing and dance and tell our joys 

As good as any clown, 

While we are merry with dancing. 



HURRAH FOR THE JOLLY THREE. /O 

Hurrah! Hurrah! for all the Jolly Three, 
Hurrah! Hurrah! the boys are full of glee; 
The boys and girls do sing and dance quite good 
enough for me, 

While we are merry with dancing. 

We often have a chicken roast, 

Its better far than pie, 
With Zed and Berve to make a toast 

Before we drink the rye; 
There's fun at every hitching post 

And music in the sky. 
While we are merry with dancing. 

Oh, do you mind the prayers we made 

When all around was still. 
The Quaker just beneath our shade 

With rapture we did fill, 
And then he sent his only maid 

To ask us for our will. 

To join us in meeting and pleasure. 

We made a trip one stormy night 
When all was white with snow 

And locked the school bouse good and tight. 
Then homeward we did go. 

And left the boys inside to fight. 
Or break the lock below. 

While we were running with pleasure. 



76 ON FINDING A SKELETON. 



ON FINDING A SKELETON 



Some luckless pilgrim of the past 

Has stopped beside this mountain way, 

And given back to earth at last 

Her borrowed dome of crumbling clay. 

No penciled slab proclaims his worth, 
Nor wealth-raised vault entombs his form 

But lies he here upon the earth 
Unmindful of old Winter's storm. 

Oh dust, thou feelest not the surge 

Of this unresting sea of Time! 
Nor hearest thou the brook's low dirge 

That echo fills with notes subJime. 

Nor will the beckoning hand of vice 
Now seek to swerve- thy upright course, 

Nor mock thy thoughtless erring grice 
With untold scourges of remorse. 

For thou art sung to dreamless sleep 

By solitudes enchanting song, 
So let the hills thy secret keep. 

And chide them not if they do wrong. 



TO A LOVER. 



TO A LOVER. 



T have but one hope while living, 

I have but a single desire, 
I hope to be always found giving 

The fullness of my heart entire 

Fnir love, to thee I would give it, 
For with thee is heavenly bliss, 

I've tried though I cannot out live it — 
No suffering is like unto this 

A hive with no queen is repining. 
And light with no eyes is a loss; 

The heavens above thee are shining, 
But their light without thee is a dross. 

I've studied my heart's deep feeling, 
And fanned from mine eyes their dew, 

But mine eyes go on with their stealing, 
And my heart beats on but for you. 

Come love, inspire me to pleasure, 
It requires but a single word, 

That word is the gem of all treasure; 
I pray that it soon may be heard. 

A sigh, a word, or a motion, 

A motion, a word, or a sigh, 
Each, all, are but love and devotion 

That no one but thee can supply. 



78 THE RAIN. 



THE RAIN 



Hear the patter of the rain. 

Gentle rain. 

In the center of the street, 

Hear the patter of the feet, 

Making music so complete 

To entertain. 

Oh, merry, merry rain. 

Falling rain, 
How its little pearly beads, 
Sprout the dry and dormant seed J 
Of the flowers and the weeds 

Upon the plain. 

Oh, the blessings of the rain, 

Gentle rain, 
How the buds begin to swell, 
And so quietly fortell, 
Of the fruits that will excell, 

And long sustain. 



THE RATN. 79 

Sweet the music of the rain, 

Peai-iV rain, 
it will reach the needy first, 
And will quench the soldier's thirst, 
When his wounds are paining worst, 

Of all the slain. 

Hear the thunder and the rain, 

Thunder rain. 
Oh, it sounds like rolling hills, 
When the Heaven's have their drills. 
Or the roaring lion fills, 

The air with pain. 

Sweet the ceasing of the rain. 

Ceasing rain. 
When the thunders rest in peace, 
And the clouds hegin to fleece. 
Then the rain is "heard to cease" 

Its sweetest strain. 



7^ 



80 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE. 

THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE 



There's beauty in mother nature, 
To the bright observing eye; 

There's joy whenever one may look 
From earth to the Inr blue sky. 

There's music in the whistling wind, 
Knowledge in the babbling stream: 

The sleep of man will ever find 
Delight in a lovely dream. 

There's beauty in the early morn. 
When flowers with dew are wet; 

There's beauty in the Western sky 
When the evening sun is set. 

There's delight in the glow of love, 
And love in the heart that glows; 

There's vigor in the breath of Life 
And rest in breathless repose. 

There's calmness in Mother Nature, 
Relief from the tears you weep; 

Her mighty foot will ever rock 
The cradle of dreamless sleep. 

There's comfort in the hopes of man, 
Pleasure in the songs we sing; 

There's good in all the v/alks of life, 
And beauty in everything. 



SONG OF THE KATY-DID. 81 



THE SONG OF KATY-DID 



When the day has made a slow retreat, 

But lingers away in the sky, 
And fox-fire shines with glowitig heat 

And drowsy my eyelids lie; 
And 'round the fire the miller flits, 

Then Katy is whetting her wits, her vvits, 

Then Katy is whetting her wits. 

The whip-poor-will rejoices, too, 

When Katy is singing to me. 
As if he, too, the secret knew 

Of how to be happy and free; 
I would that I were as happy as he, 

Reflecting the life to be, to be. 

Reflecting the life to be. 

The fire bugs light their candles bright, 

The owl is leaving his tree; 
The moon peeps in upon the sight, 

A bright little moon is she. 
But none so bright and none so light 

As Katy in all her glee, her glee, 

As Katy in all her glee. 



82 SONG OP" THE KATY-DTD — MY I,OST LOUISE. 

Teach ine thy song, sweet Katy-did, 

I lon^ to be happy J ike thee; 
For in they song there must be hid 

The secret of every known glee; 
I only ask thee. Katy-did, 

The secret of all thy glee, thy glee. 

The secret of all thy glee. 

My Katy-did then, kindly said: 

"The wa}' to be happy and free 
Is to live this life before its fled 

Instead of the life to be; 
Rejnice, be glad, the feast is spread, 

I've given to you the key, the key. 

Of life in my so!ig of glee." 



MY LOST LOUISE 



Thou deep and solemn ocean, 
Thou everlasting sea, 
Thy rising neap with one great sweep 
Left naught to love for me. 
Her face was young and comely, 
Hung round with wavy hair; 



LOUISE. — there's no MAN BUT HAS A FAULT. 88 

iler heart was true as eyes were blue, 

And I the plighted heir. 

Anguish and pain unceasing 

Have filled my youthful heart, 
The one T love has gone above, 

My soul's own counterpart. 

Sun, moon and stars may vanish, 

The earth pass into night. 
For what are these without Louise, 

But soul consuming blight. 



THERE IS JNO MAN BUT HAS A FAULT. 



Have ever you met a frieiid, dear boy, 

A friend of the truest kind, 
Whose heart would leap when you had joy, 

But ached when you repined? 

Have ever you met a friend, dear boy, 
Whose eyes were wet with dew 

To see a trouble round you come? 
That friend was certainly true. 

If ever you meet a friend so fair. 

Whose heart beats on for you. 
Cause imperfection lingers there 

Don't take him to be untrue. 



84 A TRUE LOVE VOW. 



A TRUE LOVE VOW. 



Thy lips are red as rosebuds, dear, 
Sweet smiles around them play; 

A lingering sweetness binds me here, 
I cannot break away. 

Oft when the moon-beams' gentle light 

Rolls the darkness away, 
The nectars of thy lips unite 

To bind my heart a prey. 

Thy rosebud lips dispell my gloom 

And happy is the hour 
That makes my true love's lips to bloom 

Into a passion flower . 

And when I press them to my own 

I get a quick return — 
A thrill that penetrates the throne 

Where sits my soul to yearn. 

The more I kiss, the more I yearn 

For kisses warm and pure; 
And true the hearts that ever burn, 

To make true love endure. 



A TRUE LOVE VOW. — MY LOVE. 85 

How glad the heart that lies secure 

In true love's strong emhrace! 
How sad the heart that's made impure 

And left in sad disgrace] 



MY LOVE. 



My love, when thou art near, 
All things seern bright and glorious; 

Thou fillest the very atmosphere 
With love full meritorious. 

As through the heavens clusters meet, 
And pass around one center, 

So 'tis with the€, all beauties greet 
Thy soul as their inventor. 

Oh, what bliss were in thy love! 

For beauties round thee cluster; 
Heavenly orbs around thee move 

And dazzle in thv luster. 



86 MY PILGRIM FROM THE OCEAN. 



MY PILGRIM FROM THE OCEAN 



Once I saw a pilgrim strolling, 
Resting, rising, rumbling, rolling, 
And I said, "Who art thou stranger, 
Thus to fret and foam and roll?" 
Then the stranger answered wisely, 
And he answered most advisedly, 
"Faith," said he, "my name is water, 
And I seek a Heavenly goal." 

Next I saw a pilgrim resting, 
Far beyond where birds go nesting, 
So I stopped and asked the question 
That I oft had asked before; 
But his greeting was much colder. 
And his manner somewhat bolder. 
Than the other who made answer 
In the pleasant days of yore. 

"Long ago," said he, "I met you. 
And my motion seemed to fret you, 



MY PILGRIM FROM THE OCEAN. 87 

And you asked the self same question 

When we met upon the shore. 

Do not think that I am jesting, 

When I tell you I am resting; 

I have changed my name to ice, sir, 

Simply changed, nnd nothing more." 

Then I saw another stranger 
Rise above all earthly danger, 
Soar above the struggling masses, 
Seeking some more gentle shore. 
Every motion seemed more lovely, 
As he sailed around above me, 
And I said "Why that's my pilgrim 
Changing form, and nothing more." 

Silent was the changing motion, 
Of the pilgrim from the ocean, ■ 
As he taught me how these changes 
Bring us to that promised goal. 
Oh, what bliss were in the motion 
Of the lesson from the ocean! 
Life to death, and death to end, 
In transformation of the soul. 



7^ 



88 HOME OF PEACE. 



THE HOME OF PEACE. 



Mournful thoughts come o'er me creeping, 
When I see the willow weeping 
O'er the dead who there lie sleeping 

Their release. 
Let the weeping of the willow 
Flow to meet the foaming billow, 
For it softens not the pillow 

Of surcease. 

•And the stillness and the luster, 
Of the throne where angels cluster, 
Hears no sound of earthly bluster 

And caprice. 
And the sadness and the sorrow, 
Thfit this life does make or borrow, 
Reaches not within the narrow 

Home of peace. 

Think not they of earthly power. 
Nor the honor of the hour, 
As they sleep beneath the flower, 
Sown in peace; 



HOME OF PEACE. WORKING IN THE GARDEN. 89 

"Sleep the sleep that knows no waking," 
Til] great Heaven's day is breaking, 
And the soul is gently shaking 

Off decease. 
Oh, let speech in its oration 
Mingle thoughts of sweet salvation 
O'er the dead of every nation's 

Home of peace. 



WORKING IN THE GARDEN. 



Gently speed the moments when I pass away the 

time 
Jotting down my thoughts in systematic rhyme; 
Working in the garden of animated flowers 
Is a very pleasant way to pass the fleeting hours; 
Writing now of pleasure, then again of pain, 
Just inverts the order of ''sunshine after rain;" 
But it really all depends on the manner and the 

mood. 
Whether what one writes is cloudy or whether it 

is good. 



90 WORKING IN THE GARDEN. 

The mind is sometimes beaming with thoughts 

of counng days, 
When the soul will he a shining and with youth- 
ful passions blaze; 
Then again the mind is churned with a horrid 

greed for gain, 
And from out the cloudy mind falls a melancholy 

strain. 
I sometimes read Lord Byron and sometimes 

Thomas Moore, 
And every time I find a gem I never saw before; 
Again I listen to the song of sweet Sir Walter 

Scott, 
How well the aged "minstrel" played the music 

once forgot; 
But Goldsmith peers above them all "the fairest 

of the train," 
No other bard has yet produced one half so sweet 

a strain. 
The kind and able minister and people whom he 

taught 
Were .spoken of in common words, but oh, how 

sweet the thought! 
So working in the garden of animated flowers, 
Is a very pleasant way to pass the fleeting hours. 



THE PASSING OF THE DYING YEAR. V)l 



THE PASSING OF THE DYING YEAR, 



Softly the rustling of the leaves was heard 
As if by some expiring breath there stirred, 
•'Perehnnce the sorrow lyden breezes luove 
To make them seek a cold and dainj^ened groove, 
*'S})eak gently mother, for so.ne death is near. 
Ah, 'tis the passing of the dying year! 
How calmly goes he to the tomb of death! 
How gently speeds his last expiring breath! 
Well I remeniber in his youthful hours 
How bitter he wept his tearful showers. 
Wept o'er the tomb of his beloved sire 
While muffled thunders filled the earth entire; 
But now that he has somevvhat older grown 
We see him calmly passing to his own. 
He murmurs not a sigh of deep regret, 
But leaves us here to wonder and forget. 
To wonder that we things should fear to die. 
Or even stop to ask the question 'Why?' 
And to forget all melancholy gloom 
To find eternal life succeeds the tomb. 
Creation teaches us to never pause, 



92 PARSING OF THE DYING YEAR. — FASHION. 

But place our trust in Nature and her laws. 
And, m(»ther dear, the lesson of this hour 
Has taught me what I never knew before; 
80 with the new born year I take new hope, 
The better with the woes of time to cope. 
Each New Year's eve I'll take this rocker here 
And watch the passing of the dying year." 



FASHION. 



Some people are not up to date, don't you know, 

They stick to the same old notion 
That "grandma was pleased with these things 
long ago 

And we ought to show our devotion." 

Whenever a new thing, in dress or in law. 
Is brought for the people to view it, 

They stand open mouthed, as if filled with awe, 
For they're not educated up to it. 

The spirit that moves them is not unrefined 

Nor given to exageration, 
But the truth of it is, they live for behind 

The times and the tides of the nation. 



FASHION, 93 

If a lady comes out with divided skirts, 

Or bloomers, or even a sash on, 
The first thing they say is that "that lady flirts," 

For they hate everything in the fashion. 

Or should she attempt the pulpit to fill 
To teach the true way to salvation. 

They cry out in language prophetic and shrill 
To show us their disapprobation. 

Or let her attempt her right to assert, 

In other words let her just offer 
To deliver a speech or wear a white shirt, 

And she meets with the voice of the scoffer. 

Divine is the law that makes planets to move, 
'Twas Newton who learned to compute it. 

The masses, of course, had no means to disprove, 
Yet for ages they tried to dispute it. 

The fashions, like seasons, they come and they 
go. 

The raiment of fig leaves to banish, 
But the tardy cry out to the world in their woe: 

"She looks so awfullv manish." 



--1*^ 



94 Or/KVELAND, THE FISHERMAN. 



CLEVELAND, THE FISHERMAN, 



air: "iMARCHING THROL^GH GEORGIA. 



Oui- money goes across the sea. 
When Grover's in the chair; 
, They pull his leg for all he's worth 
And hold our bonds with care; 
But when we get another vote 
Oh, won't we pull his hair. 

While he is fishing fv)r pleasure. 

CHORUS. 

Hurrah! Hurrah! for tarift' we declare, 
Hurrah! Hurrah! I'll bet you we get there, 
There's freedom in the song we sing, there's 
famine in the air, 

While he is fishing for pleasure. 

Protection for the laboring man 

Keeps hunger from the door. 
And fills your pocket with the gold 

Just as the days of yore; 



CLEVELAND, THE FISHERAIAN. 95 

Your home will be like heaven then, 
And not a perfect bore, 

While he is fishing for pleasure. 

The honey bee flies all around, 

The sweetest flower to sip; 
The money bee does jnst the same, 

Oh, watch our money slip, 
It goos from us to Johnnie Bull, 

I'm giving you a tip, 

While he is fishing for pleasure. 

And now a word about free trade 

If you will lend your ear. 
It makes your pocket book so light, 

Your stomach feel so queer, 
So when you vote just think of this 

Or else you'll shed a tear. 

While he is fishing for pleasure. 



1"^ 



96 THE GREAT FIRST CAUSE. 



THE GREAT FIRST CAUSE. 



I doubt not that to every human mind 
Thoughts of a Great First Cause present thent- 

selves. 
No matter whether he be King or slave, 
Or whether he be infidel or priest. 
He will before his fijial sad farewell 
Propound this grave and solemn question: 
''From whence come all these good and perfect 

things?" 
But when he turns to nature, and perceives 
With what untiring regularity 
She prosecutes her laws, he then exclaims: 
'*0h. Mighty God, all things proceed from Thee!" 
Now come with me through nature's realms of 

thought. 
Direct an eye to heaven's space and there 
Behold the countless planets of the sky. 
With mighty force, as constant as old Time 
Himself, they aid and are aided in return, 
And with measureless velocity they bend 



THE GREAT FIRST CAUSE. 97 

Their awful forms in cycles of the deep. 
Now turn your eye once more upon the earth. 
The waving grass beside the rugged cliff 
That makes the hair to grow upon the ox, 
Feathers upon the fowl and wool upon 
The sheep; the vapors that arist; beneath 
The sun and cast the earth in darkness; and 
The storms that put those rising vapors to 
Their flighi; the clashing ice that plows through- 
out 
The sea; the never ending pulse of Time; 
The thunderbolt that makes the njountain tremble 
And, arched above all, great heaven's starry 

dome; 
Ench, all, proclaim existence of a God. 
Yea, thnt kind law which binds molecular life, 
The soul which dwells within the growing stone; 
The feeling of the plant; and last the souls 
That permeate the forms of men, and bind 
Their thoughts in love, are but the proofs of Him 
Whom we do call ''the great and all wise God." 



J^^ 



93 I CARE NOT FOR WEALTH, 



I CARE NOT FOR WEALTH. 



For nionied fortune what en re 1? 

No lease to life can money buy. 

It oft does raise a lasting vault 

For him whose worth is sad at fault; 

For misers make while robbers reign. 

And misers hoard their sullied gain; 

But robbers steal while misers save. 

And robbers fill a nostly grave. 

Spirits such as these enshrine, 

Were driven from the ancient swine. 

But where is love and where is worth? 

Not mouldering in a grave of earth. 

A goodly name is not in gloom 

Nor chisled on a pillared tomb. 

Each man who did true worth impart 

Finds sweeter rest in every heart. 

So give me love and give me health 

And I'm endowed with nature's wealth; 

And give me worth to build a tomb 

And I will sleep where love-thouahts bloom 



THE RIVER RHINE. 9^ 



THE RIVER RHINE. 



A proud old stream, the river Rhine, 
I^lowing the mountains between, 

Leaving those grim old peaks behind 
To shadow the small ravine. 

'Tis like the mighty stream of Time, 
That peerj^ through the distant haze, 

It marks its course and leaves behind 
The ruins of bygone days. 

And now, broad-breasted to the sun, 
Like ujanhood's strongest hour. 

It bursts its way through mountain pass 
With strong and earnest power. 

At length with age and falt'ring step, 

It glides along, but lo! 
It sinks beneath the sandy soil 

Into its grave belou. 

And thus out through its sandy tomb, 

Into the mighty sea, 
It mingles with the foaming tide, 

And thus 'twdll be with thee. 



100 OUR HEROES. 



OUR HEROES. 



We view our nation's early days 
Throngli civil strife and foreign haze^ 
And then it was, and is so now, 
That wreathes were placed upon the brow 
Of hitn, whose eyes first saw the light 
In villiage, town, or country site, 
No thoughtless fop e'er wore a crown. 
Nor yet has one e'er gained renown; 
No man who first breathed cit}" air 
Has ever filled our Nation's chair. 
And thus it was our heroes came 
O'er paths of toil to heights t)f fame 
The boy or girl who seeks success 
Must learn the art of good address; 
And such is taught, by best known rule. 
In each and every villiage school. 
Come hither each and every lad. 
Partake of all that's to be had; 
For here is laid, and nothing less 
Foundation for your life's success J 



SMILES AND TKARS. iOl 



SMILES AND TEARS. 



Mnny a life is veiled in tears, 

And this my soul would fain exalt; 

There's not a soul but has some fears, 
And not a one but has a fault. 

The keenest eye, the purest mind 
Can see but dinily at it's best; 

There's not a heart so well refined 
But has a spot upon its crest. 

Every home must have its sorrow, 

And every heart must nave its grief — 

For every puncture of the arrow, 
A loving snjile will give relief. 

Show me a heart without a pain 
And you show me a rayless life; 

What virtue is, is what we gain 

By mingling smiles with earthly strife. 

So cast away all idle fears, 

And make thy voice a merry chime, 
And that will change this "vale of tears" 

Into a life tar more sublime. 



r02 THE CHICKADEE. 



THE CHICKADEE. 



Once when rhe cherries were ripe and red 
Two little hirdies had just been wed, 
When one to the other so sweetly said: 
"Chickadee, chickadee, chickadeedee, 
Never were birds so happy as we, 
Chickadee, chickadee, chickadeedee. '^ 

Work for the birds is pleasure indeed. 
Working and waiting is sure to succeed; 
Joyfully sing and joyfully plead: 

"Chickadee, chickadee, chickadeedee, 
Where are the birds as happy as we? 
Chickadee, chickadee, chickadeedee.'^ 

Now they have finished their nest so fine, 

Feathers and cotton and strings of twine, 

All of the fairest and latest design, 

''Chickadee, chickadee, chickadeedee. 

Never could Orpheus sing with more glee^ 

Chickadee, chickadee, chickadeedee." 

Early each niorn they're up with the day 
Twitting and chirping and working away, 
Never forgetting a note of their lay; 
"Chickadee, chickadee, chickadeedee. 



THE CHICKADEE. 103 

Eggs in the nest? Yes: one, two, three, 
Chickadee, chickadee, chickadeedee." 

Day after da}^ she sits on the nest, 
Keeping the egpjs well under her breast, 
While he is singing and phiming his crest. 
"Chickadee, chickadee, chickadeedee, 
Birds in the nest? Yes: one, two, three, 
Chickadee, chickadee, chickadeedee." 

Week af<er week continues to bring, 
News of the full fledged birds on the wing, 
Five of them now continue to sing: 
"Chickadee, chickadee, chickadeedee, 
Three on the ground and two in the tree, 
Chickadee, chickadee, chickadeedee." 

Soon the cold snow drove the birds as before 

To pick up the crumbs in front of my door; 

Still the sweet notes came forth as of yore, 

"Chickadee, chickadee, chickadeedee, 

Winter or Spring we're happy to be. 

Chickadee, chickadee, chickadeedee." 

But, oh, how sad! the news shocked us all; 
A bad, bad boy had fixed a dead fall 
And killed all but one and left it to call: 
"Chickadee, chickadee, come back to me, 
For I am alone and left here to be 
A poor, broken hearted chickadeedee." 



104 CHICKADEE. — WHEN WE SEE AS WE ARE SEEN. 

All through the winter he lingered alonsr, 

Ever in mind of the wicked boys wrong; 

Now, that he's dead I sing his sweet song: 

"Chickadee, chickadee, chickadeedee. 

Never again will you ting unto me, 

Chickadee, chickadee, chickadeedee." 



WHEN WE SEE AS WE ARE SEEN 



When the splendor of the morning 
Casts a ray upon the deep, 

And the mysteries of the future 
Melt before the gentle heat. 

Then will we unveil our memories 
And the past will go between, 

And we'll solve the deathly mystery 
When we see as we are seen. 

When the pink no more doth blossom 
On the cheek of swe^t sixteen, 

But we hear the angels singing. 
Then we'll see as we are seen. 

Earthly troubles will all vanish, 

All that is will be serene, 
And sweet life will cease like music 

When we see as we are seen. 



FAST ROLL THE YEARS AWAY. 105 



FAST ROLL THE YEARS AWAY 



Noontime comes and morning goet^. 
And soon make up the day; 

Time misspent brings lots of woes, 
Which leaves no time to play; 

Morning, Noon and evening past, 

Idly spent and backward cast, 
Fast roils a life away. 

Springtime brought me niany joys. 
Which I can ne'er repay, 

I melted gold into alloys 
And tossed it to the clay. 

Springtime, Summer and the Fall 

Turned to no good use at all; 
Fast throws a life away. 

Winter comes and finds me here — 

Fast turn my hairs to gray, 
And my eyes seem not so clear 

As on a younger day, 
"Freddie, dear," the old man said, 
"In these few lines m.y life is read" 
Remember, ah, remember Fred, 
Fast roll the years away. 



106 grant's address at shtloh. 



GRANT'S ADDRESS AT THE BATTLE 
OF SHILOII. 



Awake, ye braves! Awake! 

Protect our Liberty! 
Shall we like dumb brutes quake, 

When foes attack the free? 
No braver men e'er trod 
The green grass and the sod; 

No purer blood e'er flowed 

Or stained the pilgrim's road. 
Yet, when oppression lifts its hand 
Brave blood flows freely to the strand. 

Line up! ye braves, line up! 

Respond to Freedom's call ! 
Though death's a bitter cup 

Do brave men fear to fall? 
Not though the fates fortell 
That the foe fights hard and well, 

Not though they feel the breath 

Of close advancing death; 
For brave men never fear to die. 
Though horrid hell is gapping nigh. 

Charge! ye braves, charge the foe! 
Would brave men wear the yoke? 



grant's address.— omnipresence. 107 

Would heroes fear to go, 

Or shudder 'neath the smoke? 
And when you leave this spot, 
Though cannon balls fly hot. 

Heed not mortality, 

But fight for victory; 
For the battle field must be the grave 
Of fallen heroes and the brave. 



OMNIPRESENCE. 



Ood looks out from every stone 

On every hill in every zone. 

Breathes from the blooming flower, 

Every moment and every hour, 

Lisps in the purling of the stream. 

Drops from Heaven with every beam. 

In the song of the Mocking bird. 

And in the prattling baby's word. 

The sweetest notes of Him are heard. 

And where the pearly dewdrop lies 

God looks out with an hundred eyes. 

He leaps like thunder irom the cloud, 

Or stands majestically proud 

In beams of day's resplendent light, 

Or wrapped in darkness of the night. 

He rolls from Earth in the babbling spring. 

In short, He abides in every thing. 



108 SPRINGTIME. 



SPRINGTIME 



When gay frosty Winter is gone with his fun, 
The birds coming forth meet the rays of the sun^ 
The blossoms of crimson are there to be seen 
In the elegant orchard all clothed in her green. 

The hedges are bordered with roses of red. 
And cowslips of yellow that hang down their head. 
And modest sweet violets hid 'neath the shade — 
A garden of perfume the warm Spring has made. 

The lately hatched goslings come forth from the 

shell 
And play on the grass, else fall in the well, 
Their yellowish down as bright as the gold 
Helps the warm sunshine to keep out the cold. 

The lambs may be seen in the meadows at play, 
The ewe taking care of them day after day, 
The ram lying easy on carpet of lawn — 
The beauty of Springtime is everywhere on. 

The dance of the squirrel in innocent glee 
Keeps time with the hum of the sweet honeybee, 



SPRINGTIME. — TO THE MEDITATIVE. 109 

The kind warbling bird with his music to sing 
Invites out to pleasure all lovers of Spring. 

Oh, Venus! your charms are forever on wing, 
In the perfume of flowers, on zephyrs of Spring: 
Thou goddess ©f love and beauty and grace 
We see in the Springtime thy beautiful fuv-^.e. 

Oh, Bacchus! you worship the grape and the vine. 
But give me the odors of lovely Springtime; 
With this I'm content, and forever and aye, 
I'll kneel at the feet of Flora to pray. 



TO THE MEDITATIVE. 



"I see you meditate, my friend, 
I wonder what can be 

The subject of your mournful thought- 
It seems to puzzle thee." 

^T seem to think of long ago 

Of time before my life. 
It might have been just so and so, 

But now its all a strife. 



110 TO THE MEDITATIVE. 

Again I think of days to coine. 

When we will be no more, 
For then we say our race is run 

And crossed the river o'er." 

'"Tut, tut, my friend, youVe said enough^ 
Now, bring your pipe to fill. 

With this advice, and smoke and puff 
'Twill cure or else 'twill kill. 

Pierce not the past with doleful thought, 

The present spell alone 
Is all the time that you have got, 

Improve it for your own. 

The Future meet with fearless heart, 

A strong and manly man; 
That you are here, do play your part 

As well as ever can. 

The bloom of Now is full of sweet, 

Be not a worthless drone, 
Employ the time as you think meet 

For Now is all you own. 

To me there's no such time as Past, 

This truth I will avow. 
Nor is there time that's yet to come — 

But one eternal Now." 



THE MOUNT OF THE HOLY CROSS. Ill 



THE MOUNT OF THE HOLY CROSS. 



The rain fell on Mount Ariat. 

From clouds both dense and dark, 
And when the rain had ceased to pat 

It caught the floating ark; 
Oh, noble work that it has done, 
To finish that which Noah begun. 

Then later on from Heaven's fount 
The Son of God was borne. 

To preach upon the holy mount: 
"Blessed are they that mourn." 

How grandly grand his simple word 

To all who hear, to all who heard. 

And still another mount there is. 

Which has a task to do, 
And well 'tis done, this task of his, 

Go, bring the blessed to view, 
For on his side is sacred moss, 
And on his top the Holy Cross. 



112 FREEDOM. 



FREEDOM, 



That goodly flag that floats above 
This land once free from lust, 

Our fathers bought with human blood 
And left it to our trust. 

sacred trust inspire me still 
To speak in well known tongue, 

And make the air of liberty 
Inflate my bleeding lung. 

When patriotic liberty 

Spread forth her mighty wing 
She made each hamlet in this land 

Resound with freedom's ring. 

And in that song was this command; 

"Enjoy, preserve, transmit!" 
We hear the past paternal voice 

Cry out to "never quit." 

Have we kept well this holy trust, 

Or have we been asleep. 
While Shylock, like a hungry wolf, 

Devoured the flock of sheep? 



FREEDOM. 113 

Should we contend our task well done. 
Should this be called backbone? 

When still that flag floats high above 
With traitors on the throne? 

That grand old flag that sailed on high 

And represented vim, 
Still floats above this land of ours 

But freedom's 'name is dim. 

Are we unmoved by such grand words 

As once defended freedom? 
If so let's pray that they return 

For now is when we need 'em . 

For we are bound in iron bands 
Made strong with corporate steel, 

But we can burst them if we place 
Our shoulders to the wheel. 

Could I but reach the hearts of men, 

Or pierce the very pan 
With words as sharp as ever grew 

Upon the tongue of man. 

I'd rouse their sleeping brains to act, 

Undo what we have done 
Unto this blood stained liberty 

Since first this land begun! 



114 FREEDOM. — JOAQUIN MILLER. 

hear the patriotic voice 

1'hat gave the great command: 

"Sink or swim, live or die," 

Good freedom's name shall stand. 



JOAQUIN MILLER. 



Great Tennyson "charged the light brigade," 
But when his charge of life was made, 
And he beneath the flowers was laid 

The whole world turned to mourn. 
The sky o'erhead with clouds were hung, 
From which the tears of heaven were sprung, 
And muffled thunders sadly rung 

As he to heaven was borne. 

But another there is, just across the firth, 
A singer of songs of God given birth 
And stands he alone on a clod of earth 

That the dews are melting away. 
Oh, could we but check the power of the dew, 
That he might be left to stand in our view- 
To sweep the strings with genius anew. 

He may and God grant that he may. 



OK-A-LEE. 115 



OK-A-LEE, 



AS SUNG BY THE RED-WINGED BLACK BIRD. 



Once when a battle had been fought and won, 
And the wounded were lying beneath the warm sun 
A black-bird in singing his first notes begun: 

'*Ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee! 

Oh, let us go North and build in a tree, 

Ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee." 

His mate said: "all right, I will just lake along 
This nice piece of paper, T know 'tis no wrong, 
And there I will build while you sing your song; 

''Ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee, 

All winter we two have perched in this tree, 

Ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee." 

Off to the North they flew fast away 
Not knowing a soldier had written that day 
Upon that white slip as the bird sang his lay, 
"Ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee, ok a-lee! 



116 OK-A-LEE. 

Oh, never was bird so happy as he, 
Oka-lee, ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee." 

Atid when they had readied a far Northern state. 
They saw some ripe cherries and stopped there 

atid ate, 
And when they were through he began to relate, 
''Ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee." 
You dropped the white paper down nnder the 

tree, 
Ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee.'- 

A lady was list'ning to what he did say, 
And came np to scare the two birds awa}^ 
Before slie could reach them once more did he say: 

•'01<-a-lee, ok-a-lee, ok-a lee! 

My dear you have lost your paper I see, 

Ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee." 

She picked up the paper and soon she had spied 
The words of her son before he had died. 
And still through her mind those notes seemed 
to glide; 
"Ok-a-lee, ok-alee, ok-adee! 
For there on that paper those words she did 

see, 
Ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee." 

"Dear mother njy life blood is flowing away, 
And scarcely enough strength is left me to pray, 



OK-A-LEE. 117 

Oh, help me, dear Father, in atteii^pting to say: 
"Ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee! 
And now I dopray, let my dying words be: 
Ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee." 

"Ah, when but a boy I had robbed a bird's nest. 
And thought that the black bird was only a pest; 
Oh, God! now forgive nie, is my last request. 

Ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee! 

How little I thought that his song would cheer 
me 

In the moment of death; ok-a-lee." 

"Oh, mother, if you could but hear my last prayer, 
I know you would teach other boys to repair 
The wrongs they have done to the birds of the air. 

Ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee! 

And also would pray that God forgive me; 

Ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee, ok-a-lee." 



:w^ 



118 ON THE DEATH OF HARRY H, 



ON THE DEATH OF HARRY H 



The tolling of the sexton's bell, 

Is dying on the air, 
Just as the one whose life we loved 

Has ceased from earthly care. 

No deed of shame e'er stained his life, 
His deeds were always good, 

And when he had a task to do 
He did i^ as he should. 

His early life was quite well spent, 

No act to injure health; 
A heart that's full of honest love 

Is quite well stored with wealth. 

He had no thought for earthly gain, 

And no capricious whim; 
A mutual love for wife and home 

Was quite enough for him. 

'Tis sad to say, and yet how true, 
The fairest flowers that grow 

Are taken first from all the rest, 
Their beauties to bestow. 



LOVE SHINES BRTGHTS>R THAN ALL. 119 

That now his soul is wafted to 

A far more gentle sliore; 
Let's give his dust back to the earth, 

His earthly work is o'er. 



LOVE SHINES BRIGHTER THAN ALL. 



The sweetest flowers that bloom on the earth, 
The fairest gems of oceanic birth, 
Are not so sweet and not so fair 
'Till a ray of love is shining there. 

The loveliest thought of ambition's flame, 
Or thf? allurino; hope of fortune's name, 
Are sunk to the depths of oblivion's cup, 
Where we drink from love if it be but a sup. 

The young hope of Freedom will ever be blessed. 
To the heart of the brave 'twill ever be pressed, 
But all of its brightness seems to grow dim 
When the sweet love cup is full to the brim. 

As the sparkling starlight is not to be seen 
When the bright burning sun lights the day, 

So the luster of friendship is not quite so keen 
When compared with affection's bright ray. 



120 THE QUAIL. 



THE QUAIL. 



OR OLD BOB WHITE. 



Oft when we see the setting sun. 

And when the plowman's work is done, 

And barefoot children homeward run, 

The sky is silver white. 
The hedge- encircled wheat field block. 
The golden wheat all in the shock, 
And on the top a partridge cock 

Sings: old Bob White! old Bob White! 

And echo says: goodnight, goodnight. 

The fence is line<l with rose and vine, 

Forget-me-nots and eglantine. 

And tan cheeked boys with balls of twine 

To fly their Chinese kite; 
But there's the quail on fence top post, 
xMore proud than if he were on toast, 
And siill we hear him make his boast: 

Old Bob White! Old Bob White! 

And echo says: goodnight, goodnight. 



THE QUAIL. 121 

A bird more proud, there ne'er was one 
Not since the (iay the world begun, 
You'd think that he would vvei^h a ton 

To hear him sing at night. 
His mate is sitting: on the nest, 
With fifteen eggs beneaih her breast, 
While Bob stands there and sings his best; 

Old Bob White! Old Bob White! 

And echo says: goodnight, goodnight. 

But bye and bye her work is done, 
With fifteen more to view the sun, 
Or from the chicken hawk to run 

And fly with all their might. 
But evei'y day there's food to bring, 
And water from the cool fresh spring, 
But every evening hears him sing: 

Old Bob White! Old Bob White! 

And echo says: goodnight, goodnight. 

But when the hunter came that wa}' 
And heard the quail to sing his lay, 
He thoughi to have him for his prey — 

Then shot him in his flight. 
My poor Bob White is quail on toast, 
But now methinks I see his ghost 
And hear the good old fellow boast: 

Old Bob White! Old Bob White! 

While echo says: goodnight, goodnight. 



122 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 



In the dawning of our childhood, 

In the dawning of our youth, 
When our hearts were full of sunshine 

And the air was full of truth, 
And the blossoms of the Springtime 

Intermingled with the green — 
When our hearts were full of pleasure, 

That is really what I mean. 

When the lane was lined with flowers, 

Humming birds and honey bees, 
And the air was full of showers 

From the blossoms of the trees; 
And we boys, were hunting closel^^ 

For the nest that one had seen — 
When our hearts were full of pleasure 

That is really what I mean. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 12^ 

Could I now but meet my schoolmates 

Whose dear hearts are still ablaze 
With the passion still a burning 

From the happy joyful days, 
We would surely count the moments, 

Name each thoughtless trick serene — 
Fill our souls again with pleasure. 

That is really what I mean, 

We have long since grown to manbo(.^d, 

With a loving wife to roam, 
And to share each joy and pleasure, 

And to make a happy home; 
Close beside her there is standing 

One whose youth is bright and clean. 
And he too is full of pleasure — 

That is really what I mean 

We have childhood, youth and manhood, 

Intermingled like the streams 
That flow down into the ocean 

To reflect the sun's bright beams. 
Oh, I trust our souls may glisten 

With the joys that we have seen — 
Truly grand, God given pleasure. 

That is really what I mean. 



124 ON THE BANKS OF TKE SACRAMENTO. 



ON THE BANKS OF THE SACRAMENTO. 



Roll on, thou mighty stream, roll on, 

I love to see thee flow. 
For once it was that thou didst fall 

Anjong the flakes of snow. 

But now we see thee in thy might 
Flow down to meet the ^ca, 

Reflecting still that heavenly light 
To all the stars that be. 

Those rayp, those light cflulgent beams 
Thou sendest back on high. 

So borrowed light like borrowed life 
Returns unto the sky. 

And thus the stream of life glides on 
As smooth as thit< great river; 

Just now and then the storms of Time 
Do cause the waves to quiver. 

Roll on, roll on thou stream of life, 

Reflect at many angles. 
Return the light of heavenly love— 

The looking glass of Angels. 



THE SAN FRANCISCO BAY. 



125 



THE SAN FRANCISCO BAY. 



We hear them sing of land and sea, 

Of river, lake and firth, 
But there is one that I adore 

Far more than all on earth. 

We breathe its cool refreshing breeze 
Throughout the live long day; 

We're ever pleased to sail about 
On San Francisco Bay. 

The steamers sail from far off lands 

In early month of May, 
And many a one finds sweetest rest 

In San Francisco Bay. 

And right they should for where is one 

That has a part to play, 
That has prDtection all around 

Like San Francisco Bay? 



126 THE SAN FRANCISCO BAY. 

Tis rightly named "the Golden West,'* 
Where yellow poppies grow, 

And green capped hills are ever blest 
With flowers instead of snow. 

The poppied hills and flowered vales 

And birds that sing their lay. 
Invite them all to come and rest 

In San Francisco Bay- 
All nature here with passion burns^ 

Enrapt with breeze and ray 
That gives the color to the ferns 

And bears the dews away. 

The golden sun has just gone past, 
With rays so bright and kind, 

But as he went we saw him cast 
•'One longing look behind." 



J"^ 



TO JULTA 



127 



TO JULIA 



Julia, thi.- charming day in June 

Reminds me of our honeymoon; 

When all our thoughts and lovely bliss 

Found sweet expression in a kiss; 

When hope was beaming all the while, 

And life was but a living smile; 

When evening rainbows curved the skies 

And seemed more fair in lover's eyes; 

When early fragrance wet with dew 

Upon the wings of zephyrs flew, 

And joys danced forth in lovely dream, 

Like moonbeams on the rippling stream. 

The years, dear Julia, have come and gone 

And still our honeymoon is on. 

Oh, sweet the ctay and sweet the hour 

That love was made to be thy dower. 



128 THE BARK OF LIFE. 



THE BcVRK OF LIFE. 



Oh, thou dainty Bark of Life! We see thee on 
The mighty sea of Time in every phase. 
We see thee on the surginp; storm tossed waves 
In every clime. Upon the broad expanse 
Thou art rolled and tossed and pitched and 

hurled 
By ever surging waves, until at last 
The overpowering storm doth rend thy hull, 
And lo, we see thee pass beneath the wave. 
But when the surface of the sea is calm 
The rippling waves there play beneath the sun 
Tossing his sweet effulgent splendors round 
Till wearied by the sport they nestle down 
Into a gentle eddy of repose. 
How like the tender barks of infancy 
That toss the sweetest rays of love and joy 
And hope, until their eyes are closed awhile 
And dreamy smiles play round their innocent lips. 

But look the storm is raging on the deep, 
The war clouds hang in mighty circles round, 
The cannons roar like thunders awful roll 



THE BARK OF IJFE. 129 

And now the bnrks go clo\^m in countless fleets. 
We look again and there instead of war 
Kind aged mother's bathe their eyes in tears 
And sol) aloud for 8ons that ne'er returned, 
And broken hearted rnaidens weep in vain 
Beside the grassy graves of their lost loves, 
While far beyond within the heavy wood 
Or bv the lonely shore, the poet drinks 
From that surrounding oup of solitude 
A melancholy draught, or breathes therefrom 
The Muses holy inspiration. 

The solemn priest, frail limbed and hoary headed, 
Guiding his humble flock from port to port 
Breathes the last hope upon each passing soul 
And holds high mass above his mortal dust. 
And so it matters not if thou art in 
The early Spring of life where showers kiss 
The mornin.fy breeze that cools the glowing cheek. 
Or weighted down by Winter's crusty snow, 
Thou wilt at last be swamped amid the foam 
And sink beneath the sad and awful deep. 
We stand beside a sinking ship and shout: 
"'Oh, thou unresting and unconquered sea! 
From the empty caverns of the ancient Past 
Down to the crowned peaks of learned Now 
We see the marks of thv destructive hand." 



130 MY HOME, MY NATIVE LAND. 



MY HOME, MY NATIVE LAND. 



I'lii thinking of home, a home lett behind, 
Where there are loved ones so loving and kind, 
And should I return to thsm there would I find 

The blessings of niotherh- love. 
B'or long have they lived and happy each hour 
Inside the old home amid the quaint bovver; 
Oh, may they still live neath a heavenly shower 

Of blessings sent down from above. 

I hear once again the lullaby song 

That soothes the tired ear from the noise of the 

throng, 
And the touch of her hand so gentle and strong 

I feel on my tan colored brow; 
The freaks of my nature, to gently repress 
Are met with a word, a loving caress 
That softens defeat and sweetens success. 

And comforts my bosom till now. 



MY HOME, MY NATIVE LAND. 131 

The innocent pranks of early childhood 

Are mingled together, are teeming with good, 

And plainly the scenes, hill valley and wood 

Are vivid as scenes of today. 
I sat in the doorway at dusky twilight 
With bowl, milk and bread and spoon grasped 

tight 
And eat, like a boy, to my soul's delight, 

As the moments were flitting away. 

Oh, give me the life of an ambitious boy. 
Though dotted and streaked with sorrow and joy — 
Air castles, though built for old lime to destroy. 

Are cherished by noblest of njen; 
For youth like a dream when once it is spent, 
We saw not the speed so gently it went, 
But not for this world nor what heaven has lent 

Would I change it from what it was then. 

We caretl but little for what people thought, 
Nor cared we much for the lessons they taught 
But many the time the fish that were caught 

Were fried on the bank of the stream, 
But, oh, for a touch of mother's kind hand 
Or gentle reproof of father's command 
And a look at my home, my dear native land. 

Is a thought of my latest dream. 

The comet of pleasure casts never a light 
Excepting a glimmer to aid in her flight, 



132 



MY HOME, MY NATIVE LAND. 



Then speeding away is snon lost to sight 
'Mid lh(3 realms of heavenly spheres; 

The charms of forgiveness are tainted with dread, 

For manhood and sorrow have long since been 
wed, 

And the hearts of the meek are heavy as lead 
With burdens of penitent tears. 

Oh, give to me youth untarnished with sin. 
And give to me truth great heaven to win, 
But none of your wealth for wealth i^^. a kin, 

To Satan and Satan's uncouth. 
We bhuffle our youth, th(^se garments of gold, 
But we can have truth when we have grown old, 
And truth and the hope of a heavenly fold 

That will end in eternal vouth. 




THE AMERICAN FLAG. 133 



THE AMERICAN FLAG. 



With Freedom's torch and solemn prayer 

God's mercy to invoke, 
The stars and stripes were first unfurled 

Amid the battle smoke. 

Those brilliant stars and deep blue sky, 

Alternate stripes of red, 
Flapped forth the constant breeze whereby 

The burning flame was fed. 

We look at those bright colors there 

As upward they ascend. 
And think of those who fought and died 

Great Freedom to defend. 

Their words, their deeds, the vows they vowed 

Entrance the rainds of all. 
And make the nobler ones respond 

To Freedom's anxious call. 

Oh, precious flag, flap forth again. 

Arouse great Freedom's ire 
And pile the heap of corporate greed 

Upon the flaming fire. 



134 THOSE HAPPY MISSION DAYS. 



THOSE HAPPY MISSION DAYS. 



Sweet, fair and tleeting were those good old days 

When unrestricted verdure met the gaze; 

When Mission hills with valleys stretched between 

Was to nimble footed youth a sole demesne; 

The woe that took its flight where'er he ran, 

Accumulates for melancholy man; 

Aye, as the morning sunbeam touches night 

And darkness straightway takes its flight, 

So, too, the morn of life knows not a woe 

But speeds them on where mournful sorrows go. 

So, now, fair youth, returning here I brings 

My soul to where thy downy joys took wing 

To view the Past, the selpulchre of Time, 

Whose cherished hills again I fain would climb, 

Where loud tongued mirth in rudest laughter 

played, 
While tender joy to gentler meadows strayed, 
And viewing thus T see the landscape green, 
Where boys in happy crowds convene, 
To doff the well worn hat and rudely fling 



THOSK HAPPY MISSION DA.YS. 



185 



Themselves upm the ground to quaff the sprinsj , 

Or, gather scales froTi off the 7*ocks beyond, 

To skip the silver surface of the pond. 

The skipping stone provokes a pleasant wave 

But lo, it sinks into a watery ^^rave, 

Like manhood's joy, a ray upon the plain, 

Soon to be lost beneath a lake of pain. 

But list, methinks I hear a maiden sing; 
Her sweetest erace in ditty taking wing, 
Though losing not a ray of maiden grace, 
As love returned refills the vacant place, 
And there her lover stands to catch the pissing 

strain, 
While distant echoes bring them back again, 
But while fair youth in unrestricted scope 
Found sweetest pleasure on the Mission slope, 
Dirty faced misery, sad and idle, sat 
Upon her haunches down in poverty flat. 
But bigotry, trained child of stiff necked pride, 
Friendly in shop, a stranger when outside, 
Is holding reign upon the very hill 
Where then that youthful friendship roamed at 

will. 
Now progress crowds the happy youth along 
And builds her mansions where was heard his 

sons. 
The birds have flown to far off hills away 
Where now they sing sweet music all the day, 
And poppies bloom upon the distant fields 



136 



THOSE HAPPY MISSION DAYS. 



For progress here now rolls her massive wheels. 
Oh, youth, hast thou, with thy sweet smiling 
face, 
Been drawn hy Time to his cold sad embrace? 
Or wilt thou come again with hoary locks 
To break the chains of life and loose the stocks? 
Ah, welladay! thy joys perchance are o'er, 
For lo, maturity walks near sorrow's door, 
And trembling, stoops beside the passing clay 
To weep in bitter tears his woe away. 




THE MISSION DOLORES. 137 



THE MISSION DOLORES. 



In the valle}^ of the Mission 

Stands a building worn and old, 
And its value is but trifling 

When compared by worth of gold; 
But that building has a value 

That no gold can e'er betray, 
Though its walls have long been standing 

And are crumbling with decay. 

Long ago good padre Sera 

Felt the time speed fast away, 
And no Mission had been founded 

Close by San Francisco Bay. 
So the gray and worthy padre 

Made the journey there by land, 
And the Mission called Dolores 

Raised its walls above the sand. 



138 THE MISSION DOLORES. 

Raised its walls of blue adobe 

Raised those pillars round and white, 
Raised those bells that called to worship 

Each and every proselyte. 
Grasping those old bells he shouted, 

Even to the prejudiced, 
''Come unto the Holy Temple 

And receive the faith of Christ." 

So the natives came to worship 

And to hear the Holy Word; 
How the kindness of the Savior 

Every thoughful nation stirred; 
How he walked u])on the water 

Cured the sick and healed the lame. 
Cheered and soothed the poor and needy - 

These they heard with sweet acclaim. 

But the stories of the spirits 

In their flight from earthly strife, 
And the power or the Savior 

To bring back the dead to life; 
And at last the crucifixion — 

Ah, that sad and awful death! 
And ascension into heaven; 

These they heard with bated breath. 

Rude though be that ancient temple 
Precious is its crumbling clay; 



THE MISSION DOLORES. 

'Neath its consecrated shadow 
Many have been laid away. 

Laid to rest from earthly labor 
For their earthly work is done. 

And the wreath that's worn in heaven 
They most faithfully have won. 

So from out that lowly Mission . 

Rose the city of the West, 
Rose the city San Francisco 

Whose true worth is manifest, 
Rose and spread her growing beauty 

Over hill and over dell, 
'Till her suburbs can but faintly 

Hear that ancient INIission bell. 

And when visitors come hither 

Oft they speed across the way, 
There in wonderment stand viewing 

That old church beside the bay 
Then their thoughts run back to ages, 

Which to us now seem a loss, 
When our Savior, sad, pathetic, 

Died upon the Holy Cross. 

So that building has been left us, 
As a sign both good and great. 

That the Word of God is mighty 
And is yet inviolate. 



139 



40 THE MISSION DOLORES. 

Stands a relic of the ages, 

Of unselfish sacrifice, 
When those pad res taught the Natives 

How to gain a paradise. 

Stands in sad pathetic ruin, 

Speaking volumes for the cause, 
Of those meek and faithful padres 

And' their consecrated law«: 
Stands a monumental tovv'er 

To the memory of the Lord, 
Who the nmny perils suffered 

And the many sins abhorred. 




TO A LOVER. 



141 



TO A LOVER. 



Sweetly blow the zephyrs, dear, 

Sweetly blooms the rose, 
Let not affection wither here 

And lie in sad repose. 

Swiftly speed the n^ioments, love, 

And softly take our joys, 
But let us here renew them, love, 

As fast as time destroys. 

1 mind the day when we knew naught 

But wait in hopeful bliss, 
But, oh, since then we tied the knot 

And sealed it with a kiss. 

And sweetly blow the zephyrs now 
Of thine own fragant breath. 

Oh, may they warm the marble brow 
Of cold indifferent death. 



142 THE LASSIE OF MY CHOICE, 



THE LASSIE OF MY CHOICE 



I was walking down the street, heigh-ho, 
When a lassie I did meet, heigh-ho, 

And I straight way fell in love 

With this angel from above, 
J^he's the queen of all the angels, heigh-ho. 

And the man up in the moon, heigh-ho, 
Is almost in a swoon, heigh-ho, 

For he cast an eye this way 

And likewise fell a prey 
To the heauties of my lassie, heigh-ho. 

We'll compare her laughing eyes, heigh-ho, 
To the beauties of the skies, heigh-ho. 
And tlie accents of her voice 
Makes the music of my choice, 
As she sings to me a ditty, heigh-ho. 

But her l>eauty interferes, heigh-ho, 
With the music of the spheres, heigh-ho, 
Her sweet attractive grace 
Draws them quite near out of place 
For to circle round my lassie, heigh-ho. 



MAY, 143 



MAY 



When snowflakes of Winter are flying around 
And robbins have flown far away, 

And none but the snowbird is there to be found. 
All Nature says: "Wait until May." 

Then music of birds and children's first words 
Are heard 'neath the sun's warm ray; 

And weather nnd wealth and plenty of health 
Combine to make people more gay. 

Then the music of birds is plainer than words 
That the voice of Winter is dumb; 

So hip, hip, hooray! we welcome this day 
For the beauties of Mav have come. 



144 "pussy wants a corner." 



PUSSY WANTS A CORNER." 



Last night I dreamed a long, long dream, 

I dreamt of politicians 
Manipulating every "pull" 

Full equal to magicians; 
And then I said complacently 

Unto my friend the scorner: 
"The blind can see as well as we 

That pussy wants .a corner." 

And then I saw a well known man 

Reach out to help the robber. 
And turn his paper over to 

That well known railroad jobber^ 
And then I said complacently 

Unto my friend, the scorner, 
"The blind can see as well as we 

That pussy wants a corner." 

I saw McKinley, Quay and Reed^ 
And half a dozen others, 



^'PUSSY WANTS A CORNER." 145 

Fill up the presidental air 

With smoke that almost smothers; 

And then I said coiriplacently 
Unto my friend, the scorner, 

^'The blind can see as well as we 
That pussy wants a corner/' 

I saw Grove Cleveland line his nest 

With feathers hriafht and golden, 
The politiciiins then did strive 

Their courage to embolden; 
And then I said complacently 

Unto my friend, the scorner, 
'"The blindest eye can see just why 

Each pussy wants a corner." 

^'I'll boil it down to finer terms. 

Although it may seem funnv, 
But eajh and every pussy wants 

A corner on the mone3\" 
"So pussy wants a corner, eh?" 

Replied my friend, the scorner; 
^Yes, its all a game and played the same 

As pussy wnnts a corner." 



146 APOLLO TO DAPHNE. 

APOLLO TO DAPHNE. 



Ob, Daphne, thou art fair to me! 

Yes, thou art truly fair; 
Thy eyes are bright as morning stars. 

Like flax thy auburn hair. 

Thy ringlets fall around thy neck, 

Like gods around a throne, 
And winsome smiles adorn thy lips — 

Oh, Daphne, be my own! 

For, if thy charms adorn thee, love, 

As pearls adorn the sea. 
And thy fair eyes are bright as stars. 

What must thy inner being be! 

Oh, tender love! Oh, ruling flame! 

Oh, depths of exhaustless bliss! 
Whence is thy mighty power to charm? 

Oh, love, do tell me this! 

For I am not a peasant here 
But the god of song and lyre, 

And sight of all thy beauteous charms 
Has set my soul a fire. 

Oh, daughter of the river god 

Fly not from me away; 
Neither hawk, nor wolf, nor foe am I — 

Oh, stay, fair Daphne, stay! 



THE voicK OF wintp:r. 147 



THE VOICE OF WINTER. 



Voiceless and flowerless is Winter's day, 

And the wood is gray and old, 
The flowers of Spring have gone to decay, 
And the birds have flown from the fields away, 

And the wind is bleak and cold. 

Voiceless and flowerless? We'll see about that. 

Though the wind is bleak and cold; 
For my baby boy is a prattling chat, 
With a bran new kilt and a (,'ockney hat, 
And a manner that's worn and old. 

Voiceless and flowerless? We'll see later on 

Though the wood is gray and old, 
Though the flowers of Spring are faded and gone, 
My neighbor's nose has a blossom on 

That fades not away in the cold. 

Save for the voice of the tinkling bell 

No sound is heard on the way; 
But merrily they jingle, and soft and well 



148 



THE VOICE OF WINTER. 



The story of love those lovers tell 
As they ride in a one horse sleigh. 

So the jingling bells and the blooming nose, 

(Though the wood is gray and old) 
And the prattling babe and the wind that blowf 
Are voices of Winter, so the story goes, 
That fade not away in the cold. 

And the day of the year is four minus three, 

And the wood is gray and old, 
But th? good new year in the land of the free 
Has a voice of gladness for you and me 

Though the wind is bleak and cold. 




ARISE AND COME AWAY. 149 



ARISE AND COME AWAY. 



SONGti OF SOLOMON, 11:13-17. 



Oh, come, my iove, where the lillies are, 

Co Die till the break of day; 
Come by the light of the evening star, 

'Till the shadows flee away. 

Oh, come where the living waters flow, 
Come where the fountains play, 

Fov the lillies bloom in the fields below, 
Arise and come away. 

For, lo, the snowy winds are past, 

Thi:; clouds are gone astray, 
The winter rains are backward cast; 

Arise and come away. 

The flowers appear on every hand, 
The birds now sing their lay; 

All nature's voice is grandly grand — 
Arise and come away. 



150 ARISE AND COME AWAY. 

The night is fair and the stars that shine 

Relieve the passing day, 
And now my heart speaks unto thine — 

Arise and come away. 

Sun, moon and stars may cease to shine 

And darkness conquer day, 
But still my love shall seek for thine, 

Arise and come away. 

Oh, come, my love, where the lillies are, 

Come till the break of day. 
Come by the light of the evening star — 

Till the shadows flee away. 




